


SYSTEM: CORRUPTION

by Kladdis



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Depiction of Animal Cruelty, Disabled Character, Excessive Drinking, Graphic Description of Corpses, I guess gaslighting by society?, Interrogation, M/M, Murder Mystery, Obsessive-Compulsive, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Revolution, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Racist Language, Reconciliation, Seizures, Self-Hatred, Slavery, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:02:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kladdis/pseuds/Kladdis
Summary: Two months had passed since the rebellion and Hank was finally able to return to Detroit. He is immediately thrown into a murder investigation as CyberLife employees turn up dead and everything points towards Androids. Will the fragile peace Markus worked so hard for survive humanity doubting Androids again or will this be the end of that little piece of heaven they managed to secure for machines?And what the hell was up with Connor?





	1. Tell the World

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on my first playthrough. So almost everyone made it and Markus settled his rebellion peacefully, 'cause I'm a little pacifist at heart.  
> The specifics of my playthrough will become clear during the fic, so no worries. Hank and Connor are best buds, so if you know what is needed for that, you know the important bits.  
> Have fun o/
> 
> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

It's been two months since the rebellion when Markus demanded that CyberLife released every disclosed document they owned. He wanted the Androids to have full autonomy over their reproduction and evolution. He claimed that every scientific success must go to the betterment of artificial life.

CyberLife refused.

But as a video went viral of a little android child, face covered in tears, telling the story of how it met its mother and wished that it could be her real daughter, well, CyberLife didn't have a choice in the matter anymore. They managed to secure most of their repairmen as stable jobs and argued that the research should have human input, but that was it.

They gave everything to Jericho and began to integrate themselves into the most basic parts of an android’s life in the hopes of surviving as a company.  
Kamski stayed away.

Josh started the group that would later be known as A.R.A to make natural reproduction possible for androids and North looked at every android that had been forced to prostitute themselves without ever really knowing what pleasure felt like and decided she would change that.

A new era started when humans came back to Detroit to live side by side with the androids that not even three months ago had been their slaves.  
But most important of all, Hank came back.

▲▼▲

When Hank came back home, a big fluffy Sumo at his heel, the house was empty. A thick layer of dust coated everything and the air felt dead. It was quiet, no sound of gentle fans or the quiet clicking of gears could be heard. He didn't really want to feel disappointed, but he did anyway. Hank didn't necessarily expect _him_ to wait all that time in an empty house for someone who might never show up, but there had been a seed of hope steadily growing inside of Hank for the last two months that if he came back it would be to the warm welcome of his only friend.

No amount of talking down this hope he did on the ride over prepared him for that suffocating feeling of stale air and it felt like coming home from the hospital all over again.

Hank shook himself. Connor wasn't dead, he just decided to stay somewhere else. Something Hank could understand, if he thought about it for a moment. The only time Connor had been at his home had been to drag a drunk cop to work, and anyway. That plastic ass was way too workaholic, he was probably at the precinct.  
Or whatever the android equivalent to that was.

“Fuck it, Sumo. If the tin can wants to stay in the station, let him” Hank looked down into Sumo's furry face. Sumo blinked.

“Yeah, right. He wanted to be able to decide for himself. He has to live with his fucking decisions.”

Sumo huffed.

“Okay, okay. I could've told him that he could stay here, but gimme a break, I can't think of everything!”

Sumo decided he had enough of the conversation and headed in the direction of his old dog bed.

“Stupid dog!” Hank shouted at the massive butt currently wiggling through the house, causing an equally massive stir in the dust, before immediately feeling guilty about it and shouting “Good dog!” before Sumo vanished into the living room.

A tired sigh escaped Hank before his shoulders dropped and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. There was much to do and it should really start with airing out the house, 'cause it began to smell like he forgot something in the fridge before he had to leave.

But if a forgotten take-out decided to talk to him, he'd throw it into the trash, intelligent life or not.  
Hank flung his bag onto the coach and threw open every window he could find within a minute before he joint his bag. The cold February air began to drift through the house and took with it the stale air of a home left alone.

“TV: On” Hank said into to general vicinity of his television, but the thin screen stayed dead. He really wished he had a drink right now. But that would mean he had to stand up and get one, which was impossible right now because the coach was comfortable and he was tired.  
He felt a wet snout nudging his hand before he fell asleep.

The next morning didn't look that much better because Hank felt every individual bone creaking in his body and his balls were freezing off.  
A nice long array of creative curses later the windows were closed and Hank found out the hard way that he had no running water when he stood butt naked in the shower, expecting blessed warm water to liven up his frozen body.

He groaned loud enough to wake Sumo from his unfrozen slumber, because that dog had fur like a grizzly and the world was generally unfair.  
So he got dressed and ready to go on a walk with Sumo because the last this house needed was a piss stain on the carpet.

Being outside in Detroit was weird. He walked through the abandoned neighborhood, expecting at every turn to see someone bringing out trash or getting the morning mail.  
But the eerie quiet was almost peaceful and the air fresher than it had been in years. The car factory that used to blow its excess over was shut down and the breeze felt crisp for it.  
While Hank followed his usual trail to the small dog park, and wasn't it strange to be able to walk it again, he noted with the eyes of a trained investigator that though most houses seemed empty, some definitely were not.

He sometimes caught a blue reflection in the windows or movement. The house that used to belong to the widow Ms. Hemingway had a brand new looking swing set in her garden, here and there was a string of shiny cans that jingled in the wind, sometimes Hank saw Christmas lights wrapped around the fence or simply lain out on the grass in strange patterns.  
But what clued Hank in the most were the paintings. Some were just copies of things around the house painted onto the facade, like the hollow tree behind the crossroad or the skyline of Detroit.  
A lot of portraits from the leaders of Jericho, with Markus in the clear lead in number, but others too. Hank recognized a few as people who used to life here. But on every house with signs of artificial life was the seal of the rebellion, the triangle pointing downwards that was shown in the news whenever they talked about the androids.

The fenced off dog park was deserted when Hank finally reached it. The grass that used to be trampled and spares now went to Hank's ankles and Sumo sniffed over every nook and cranny before finding a spot to piss.

Hank settled against the fence, preparing himself for a long time waiting until Sumo decided that he would very much like to shit as well and stared into the middle distance until he heard the distinctive sound of heavy steps approaching.

He stayed very still until he felt a presence at his side and against better judgment a kernel of hope was growing in his chest.  
“I wish you a good morning, Sir.” A deep voice greeted. Too deep, so Hank felt his shoulders fall again.

“It's too cold to be a bloody good morning” grumbled Hank while he shoved his freezing hands into his pockets. The android, and it couldn't be anything else standing at his side, just hummed in neutral agreement.

They stayed in silence for a moment.  
“I am sorry if I am intruding, but we were wondering if you just moved here?” The android asked with that same pleasantly rumbling voice, the model of a polite citizen. But that voice was coming from above and Hank guessed that the android was at least a foot bigger than him.

“Na, I used to live here. When they let humans back in, I thought to myself, what the hell, why not?” Hank made sure to use his most drawling voice, purposefully misunderstanding the androids question.

“That is very nice to hear. But, and I apologize for my forward attitude, you must realize that things have changed around here. The comforts of your previous life here may not be available to you anymore.” Despite the friendly words, the androids voice went cold. Hank fought against a shiver and he remembered the way Connor would speak to a suspect in interrogation, how he could make his voice go hard as steel. He once told Hank that he did it because that normally raised the “stress level” whatever the hell that was.

“Yeah, I noticed that you guys turned the water off and I don't have any power anymore.” Hank chanced a look at the android and saw the bulky chest that was directly on level with his eyes and spotted the pinched look on its face.

“We turned those off in the houses we knew weren't lived in anymore. I apologize for the inconvenience.” Now that Hank was looking at the androids face he could see the it temporary scowl when it apologized. Probably part of its program it hadn't jet overcome.

“I'm gonna answer that question you're too polite to ask before you blow a fuse, big guy” Hank looked back at Sumo who found a nice spot and was mid shit. “I was on your side of the rebellion, so no need to be afraid that I'm gonna order a coffee from you or something.” The android didn't seem affected at all; no change in its facial expression or in its posture but Hank got the impression that it was relived.

“That is certainly nice to hear,” it said as if that accusation didn't even cross its mind. “My name is Collin.” Another beat of silence, Hank didn't really feel like answering. Collin ran its hands over its tightly span shirt and looked oddly anxious for an android.  
“If you want to get water and electricity again, go to the city center. They will put your house on the line again.” It suggested with a gentle smile.

Hank just nodded and whistled shrill. Sumo trotted over to his flank and gave Collin nothing more than a curious gaze.

“Are you going home again? I wish you a good day” said Collin with another gentle smile. Hank just waved it off.

“Yeah, stick it where the sun doesn't shine.” He murmured, his mind already back in his empty house. He began to walk with Sumo on the leash again, leaving Collin at the dog park.

On his way back the once lifeless streets was filled with curious faces peering out from the windows. A few android kids gathered around the swing set and watched Hank with big eyes. Or they looked at Sumo because they never saw a dog that fat.

Back home again, Sumo whined until Hank managed to find non-perishable dog food at the back of a cupboard. He watched as the dog tried his very best at an imitation of a vacuum cleaner and dearly wished for a drink. But he needed to go to the city center and he wanted to drop by the precinct because of reasons. And food would be nice too. If a single fucking store in this city was open.  
So, without taking his flask, he grabbed his car keys.

The plan had been go to the city center first because he had no idea if they had business hours or not, but before he knew he stopped in his office parking space.  
“Well, fuck” he said to himself, but since he was already there, he could just have a quick look.

Walking up to the main entrance, Hank had to admit to himself that he didn't even know if the station would be open. But if Connor was there, the doors would give.  
So when he pressed against the glass and the door opened without problem, his heart made a little jump.

Only to plummet again when he laid eyes on an android lady at the reception.  
“Good day to you, Lieutenant Anderson. Captain Fowler is already expecting you.” The receptionist greeted him with an empty smile.

Hank felt his forehead wrinkle. “Why is Fowler still here? Didn't that sack of shit have to leave like the rest of us?”

“Captain Fowler was stationed here by President Warren to help our own police force in training to keep the city civilized. He will be very pleased that another experienced investigator is here to help him out.” It said in that monotone friendly way that every receptionist seemed to have perfected. There was no way it wasn't a deviant but Hank could have bet good money on that before the revolution. “If you need instructions on where to find Captain Fowler, I can help-”

Hank was already through the door into the heart of the station before it could finish.  
The office looked almost the same, no paintings on the walls or propaganda smeared on every surface. But the amount of desks had to be cut in half; the space where they stood was left empty.

There were small trinkets on the tables still there, chosen with the same kind of inhuman attachment the tin cans had. A table near Fowler's office had dried beans lying in weird shapes all over the table top.

He tried not to notice, but on his way to Fowler's office he saw that his desk was gone.

And Connor's was empty.

▲▼▲

Fowler looked around a decade older since Hank had left Detroit. The rings under his eyes looked like deep chasms and his desk was coated in coffee stains.  
He had his eyes pinched shut and was rubbing his temples. “I already told you, Frank. You don't ask the suspect if they would like to follow you to the station. They normally _don't_.”

“That would make my job a hell of a lot easier if they did though” teased Hank. Fowler flinched so hard he almost upended his coffee but when his eyes met Hank's, Fowler looked like the man Hank had left here again.

“Shit, Hank. What the hell are you doin' here?” scolded Fowler but the grin stretching his lips told a different story.

“Fuck me if I know. I heard you had problems with the androids?” Hank let himself fall into the expensive leather chair in front of Fowler's desk. The captain’s face had lost all of its joy and the two men tried to out-scowl each other.

“Problems is not the word I'd use. I was told to stay and just help with the cleanup and now I am training almost a dozen of them to become police officers. They have absolutely no experience in the field, no idea whatsoever how the justice system even works and I swear, one of them has the intelligence of my fucking toaster!” Fowler's voice got louder and louder the more he ranted. “And then there's Markus. He may know how to win a revolution but he has no fucking clue how to run a government. Did you know-”

Fowler was interrupted as the glass door of his office opened and a timid looking android stepped in and gave Hank an uncertain look. “I just, eh, wanted to ask, hypothetically of course, what I should do if the suspect in interrogation told me that he had somewhere important to be. Do I tell them to stay, or...?” The android trailed off, unsettled by Fowler's positively stormy expression.

“You let the vandal go.” It wasn't a question.

“He said that he had to go to stock up on blue blood, so he has something when Markus decides he needs to sell it again!” The android defended himself, wringing its hands.

Fowler just starred at the android with that no nonsense look he got during his time aboard with the military.

“Oh... that is illegal, right? Markus said we are only supposed to take as much as we need.” Now the android looked downright crestfallen.

“And do you know why it's fucking illegal, Frank?” Fowler growled, the android shrinking in reaction.

“So it lasts as long as possible?” The androids voice had an astounding similarity to Sumo's duck toy.

“Exactly, Frank. Now go and don't return until you got that vandal in interrogation again!” The android fled the office and Fowler deflated again. “Do you see what I have to deal with here? That's the toaster, if you wondered.”

Hank observed Fowler's defeated look and saw all the little signs of constant stress that had worsened since the revolution. The bags the size of caterpillars under Fowler's eyes, his slack face and slumped shoulders. There had never been a question for Hank to come back to the force but now he had to ask himself if it was really worth it.

“I'm looking for Connor.” he said, searching for every little reaction he got out of Fowler who just raised an eyebrow.

“Well, if he was here, I'd have a whole lot of fucking problems I'd just give to him. Haven't seen him since the last time he was here with you.” There was judgment in Fowler's voice that he didn't try to mask.

“So, do you know where I can fucking start looking? That bastard owes me a drink.” Fowler looked massively unimpressed. Hank scowled in answer. 

“Do it like everyone who wants something from an android. Ask Markus.” Upon Hanks annoyed stare, Fowler added: “He's normally at the city hall.”

Hank gave Fowler a curt nod before hauling himself to his feet and leaving the office. As the glass door fell close, he heard Fowler shout after him.

“Make sure you are at your desk tomorrow. I have work for you!”

▲▼▲

Hank slammed on the breaks as soon as he saw the open deli. His car slide a few paces before it came to a stop on the deserted street. In front of the colorful window was an assortment of different fruits and vegetables, which meant food, if they weren't plastic.  
He exited his car and approached the small shop cautiously. It looked fairly normal, which meant that it looked human. Maybe others had come back already as well? Hank had the impression that the general populace wanted to wait until they could be sure they would be safe in Detroit.

The door opened with the jingle of a small bell and the question who would open a human food store answered itself as a female android jumped out from behind a fully stocked row of shelves.

“Oh, hello! Welcome to my shop!” it exclaimed exited. “You are my very first costumer, so please, be free, I mean feel free to browse the shelves to your desire!” It jumped up and down like an over-exited puppy.

“Yes...” Hank hesitated a moment before grabbing one of the shopping baskets next to the entrance. He made a beeline to the non-perishable foods in cans, the android at his heel.

“You know, this store used to be owned by the human I used to belong to, but now it's mine. I never had costumers, all the other androids don't need food, but when I heard that humans were coming back, oh I was so excited, I couldn't go into stand-by all night long.” Hank tried to blend the slightly grating voice of the android out while he went through the fresh wares and picked just a little bit of everything. “You know, Charles, my companion, said I couldn't do it, that I was too unprofessional to work in a store. He said that a jog-training android didn't have the patience to own a shop, that we are too brash for it, but I said 'Charles', I said, 'Charles, we are deviant. We don't have to be that anymore'. But he told me that I would blow it anyway. Can you believe that?”

“No, really?” Hank said in his most sarcastic voice. But it flew right over the androids head, because it started to grin like Christmas and Easter fell on the same day. When Hank grabbed a few cans of dog food, it let out an exited shriek.

“Oh, you have a dog? I love dogs, they are so cute. I love animals in general, Charles said I shouldn't feed the raccoon in the backyard, but have you seen their little noses? And their little paws? How could I say no to them?” The android followed Hank to the checkout. “But, Charles said that they are considered vermin, but I don't agree. They are so clever, the little cinnamon buns. There are rumors that Markus wants to open that android zoo, have you heard? Can you imagine that, android ice bears? Oh, or android raccoon! That makes 34,45$ please.” 

Hank hurried to get the money over the counter, hoping the android would shut it. But no such luck.

“Oh my, this is the first time I ever got real money. We used to just pay virtually, you know? This is really exciting for me” The android started to pack Hank's groceries into a reusable bag. “I have to tell Charles when I come home, so he can't say I'm not fit for this job anymore. What a novel concept this all is. It’s so new and exciting, don't you think?”

Hank hummed noncommittally. He grabbed the bags and hurried out of the store, the android wishing him a great day as the door fell shut behind him and Hank booked it to his car. He threw the bags on the backseat and drove off as if he was fleeing from an exploding volcano. 

While he drove towards the city hall he noted absentmindedly that the skyscrapers were filled with the same realistic painting the houses in his neighborhood had been.  
The streets were not as empty as they had been before. Androids loitered around enjoying the sun and some had old fashioned waterproof paint and colored every available surface.  
Very few had their LED's, the only way Hank could tell that they were androids was the mechanical way they used their brushes. They went from top to bottom in straight lines, like a printer.

Hank enjoyed the blessed silence for a moment before his hand automatically turned on the radio. The music and the empty road did wonders in calming him, so he was completely caught off guard when he looked into familiar brown eyes. 

“Fuck.” Something heavy dropped into Hank's stomach. There, on the side of a skyscraper was a portrait of Connor. He had that pinched look on his face he always got when he was calculating something really hard and didn't want to be disturbed.  
Hank almost wanted to stop the car to look closer at that painting, but he forced himself to continue down the road.  
Only to seriously consider stopping the car and having a good ol' puke when, a handful skyscrapers later, his own face starred Hank down.  
A giant picture of himself was painted almost at the same high as Connor's had been, with an expression on his face as if he had a gun pointed at his head.  
Which Hank, now that he thought about it, had to realize might be exactly how the android who painted that fucking thing had seen him. Back then in the CyberLife storage room.

“This is so fucked up”, he cursed over the loud music. “Can those plastic fucks not paint anything else?”

Hank firmly kept his eyes on the roads until he reached the city center, a place that had once housed Detroit's major and representatives. Not a place Hank liked to visit often.  
But like the rest of the city, the city center had lived through a lot of changes since the rebellion.

The normally cream colored building was cramped with paintings, sparring the blank spaces over the entrance spelling “Jericho”.  
With a bad feeling in his gut, Hank entered the building. The marble floors were filled with people waiting around. At first glance, Hank couldn't tell who was human and who wasn't but his inspector instincts kicked in and then the difference was as crass as night and day.

The humans had gathered closely around each other, eyeing the androids warily as they bustled around, familiar with everything in a way the humans couldn't be anymore.  
Though the androids themselves were not above a suspicious or downright hateful glance here and there. Why President Warren had decided to bring humans back to Detroit when the general temper of both sides were still so high, Hank had no idea. Before this point, he hadn't really cared.

There was a man standing at the reception, screaming at the android seated there. “But that was my house, my home! You can't just take it away because a fucking machine decided to move in there!”

The android lady seated next to that smiled welcoming at him as he approached. “What can we do for you today at Jericho?” It's voice was gentle and kind, as if it was talking to a spooked animal. It reminded Hank of how Collins had talked to him a few hours ago.

“I just want my water and power back on, that's all” The android nodded.

“Do you have identification?” it asked. When Hank handed it his passport, its hands stilled for a second. It looked up, its mouth slack before it collected itself again. The android filled the information from the passport into the computer, before it turned to Hank again, showing him the computer screen. “Is this your current address?”

“Yes, yes. Is that all you need?” Hanks hands began to sweat slightly as he made up his mind.

“We will send someone by in the evening, to look over the pipes and cables to check if they are still in working order, but other than that, we are done here” The android smiled but Hank got the feeling it wanted him gone.

“I actually need something else...” Hank faltered for a second. “Can I see Markus?”

The android blinked surprised, then a highly suspicious look took over its face. “Why would you need to see him?” Hank should have just shut up. But he already caused the damage, now he had to see it through till the end.

“I'm looking for... a friend. I can't find him anywhere and...” He swallowed hard. “I'm worried something might have happened to him during the revolution.” The android didn't seem any more willing to help him. Last chance. “His name is Connor?”

“Oh.” The android looked so deeply sorry and Hank felt dread approaching like a tidal wave. “Of course. Just follow me.” It shut down its computer and walked steadily around the counter.

“What?” Hanks throat went dry. “Do you know something? Has something happened to Connor?”

“Please be calm. You are scaring the others” The android replied with a kind note to its voice. Hank realized that he had been screaming.

“Bullshit!” He yelled and the android started walking. “If you know something, you should fucking tell me!”

The android let him through a big set of double doors, completely ignoring his shouting. Hank tried to get in its way, but it just sidestepped him.

“You can't just ignore me, fucking tell me-” A hand in front of his face stopped him. The android looked over to him coolly.

“This is Markus' office. Don't make a mess.” It turned around to go, but before it left completely, it called over its shoulder “And if you ever tell me what to do again, I am going to push your hands so far up your ass that you can scratch your nose with them.”

The heavy doors fell close with a thud.  
“Bitch.” Hank murmured under his breath and as he turned back towards the door the android had left him in front, his stomach decided it wanted to show the world its best interpretation of the fucking Can-can. But Hank did not fuck up being one of Detroit's best police men without growing a spine of steel, so he squared his shoulders and entered the rebel leader’s office.

Hank didn't know what he had expected, maybe burning papers or human skulls but he was greeted with warm colors and a spectacular view on a strip of green outside the window.  
The office was, as the rest of the city filled with paintings, but these were... different. They were not of people, not of real objects but distorted images of warm things, like two hands holding each other, flowers and trees, or simply colors, flowing into each other gently. An easel stood in the middle of the room, the only painting with dark and oppressive colors, depicting a man who struggled to keep the world on his shoulders.  
In front of that easel stood Markus, in all his rebel glory. A loose shirt, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a paintbrush in hand.  
Hank must have made a sound, because Markus turned to him and frowned.

“You are not supposed to be here.” There was an accusation in his voice. Hank felt as if he had interrupted something deeply personal.

“I'm just, ehm…” Hank scratched the back of his head. “The lady at the reception told me that you might know how to find my friend.” Hank felt that dread built up in him again, like blood it seemed to drip through his fingers into his cloth and weighed everything down like tar. But the expression on Markus' face became a lot friendlier.

“Your friend is an android?” Markus fully turned around to face Hank, an easy going smile on his face.

“Yes, he is my partner” Hank felt important to add that. Something in Markus eyes went very soft and Hank went over his words in his head again, feeling his cheeks heat as he realized how this would sound to normal people. “Wait, not like a partner partner, he is- “

“Please, take a seat.” Markus interrupted, voice a little teasing at Hank's embarrassment. He led him to a heavy dark wood desk in the corner and sat behind it as Hank fumbled to sit down on a metal chair in front. “Who is that _partner_ you're looking for?”

Hank didn't like that grin on Markus' face, but he answered regardless. “I don't even know if you guys know him, I mean some of you seemed to, with his face on that building, and the receptionist seemed to know him, but she was really obscure, and-” Markus raised an amused eyebrow. “I'm looking for Connor.”

Hank expected it, but it still hurt so see Markus' shoulders drop and his face growing taunt. Markus seemed to think quite hard. He looked Hank over and came to a conclusion. “Connor is not dead.”

Everything stopped for a second until a heavy breath left Hanks mouth and he slumped down his chair. Before he could collect himself and loudly complain why no one said anything, Markus continued. “But he's not here. We, in fact, have no idea where he might be. Some of us, especially the ones he saved from CyberLife see that as betrayal and others haven't forgiven him from hunting deviants.” Markus' face was serious and he had his hands linked in front of his face. Hank felt himself become taunt and sober in response. “When the dust settled and the city was evacuated by the humans, he came to me and told me that he couldn't stay. He said he needed to leave, but he wouldn't give an explanation as to why he needed to go.  
We think he may have fleet over the border. There are not a lot of places you can stay as an android.”

Hank nodded. “But that means I can find him. Just haven't looked hard enough.” He stood up and felt the exhaustion of the last few months drip from his body like rain. He had a goal now and was set on reaching it. Before he could get to the door and leave, Markus called out.

“Before he left, Connor told me that he'd go to a place where his life changed. A place where he didn't do as he was told. We looked at all the crime scenes Connor visited, but he wasn't there.” Hank thought of a pool filled with red and a gun still holding all its bullets. “If you find him, please tell him we need his help.”

Hank nodded. “I might know where he is.”

▲▼▲

The road to Kamski's villa was as desolated as the rest of Detroit and the space Hank had parked last time was overgrown with plants that looked a lot bigger in the weak lighting of the evening sun. It looked like there hadn't been anyone here for months and Hank felt his confidence that Connor was here slipping down the drain.

He leaned back in his car seat and took a few calming breaths. This was just like an investigation; you had cold and hot leads. If Connor wasn't here he'd look for someone who had seen him leave the city and follow Markus' angle. But Hank needed to know if his gut feeling had any merit to, so he left the car and trod over to the same door Connor and him had used back then.

The bell didn't bring any reaction, even as Hank just kept his finger pressed to the button for a solid minute. But he was in investigating mode now, so instead of giving up and returning home, he went around the compound, searching for windows to look through.

He came by that giant window with the swimming pool and saw nobody inside. But the pool itself had been drained, so Hank continued onward.

Next was a big kitchen with chrome appliances and a strangely colored black marble floor. But most importantly, there was a sliding door leading inside. It was locked, of course, but nothing a stray rock couldn't solve. Hank just hoped that Kamski had tuned off the cameras before he evacuated.  
He stepped through the hole in the glass door and stayed very still for a moment, just listening to the sounds of the house. There was no noise of note, so Hank continued inside cautiously.  
He reached the doorway to the living room and had but a second to take it in, the way the floors and walls and couches were covered in neat writing, equations and blocks of written text, before his instincts flashed and he dodged to the side as a golf club embedded itself in the wall exactly were his face had been not even seconds ago.  
Hank took the time his attacker used to pull the club out to prepare himself to defend any other incoming attacks and got a good look at his assailant.

“Connor?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is up with Hank, calling Androids “it” again, you might ask. To that I say: Because Plot! :D


	2. Connor, come Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

"Connor?!"

Hank felt his whole body lock up, his eyes fixed on the android in front of him. He hadn't really expected Connor to be here, he had to realize. The golf club fell from Connor's limp fingers with a heavy thud.

"Hank?" For a second there, Connor's whole face lit up and a big smile split his face and Hank stumbled back with the force of it. But the LED at Connors temple blinked red and his face fell and went very serious. "What are you doing here, Lieutenant?"

Hank was still reeling from finding Connor so suddenly, his brain was not yet caught up, so his mouth did what it always does whenever it had to go on autopilot. “Why the hell shouldn't I be here? I was fucking looking for you, Connor!” Connor's mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You should not have bothered” said Connor. He picked up the golf club and strode further into Kamski's house, depositing it in an umbrella stand. Hank followed Connor like the puppy he always accused the other of being.

“What do ya mean, shouldn't have bothered?” Hank began to shout. “I was fucking worried about you, prick. You could have been dead in a ditch for all I knew. Instead you are living the good life over here!” Connor didn't look at Hank, his shoulders were tight. “And what the hell do you go around swinging clubs at people, you could've hurt someone!”

That got a reaction. “I thought you were someone else.” Hank took a second to really look at Connor, seeing the way his body was bow-taut and how he appeared caught between fight or flight.

“Well, who did you think I was? Fucking Santa Claus?” Connor turned away and went back to the middle of the living room and just stood there, unsure where to go next.

“It doesn't matter.” Connor tried to brush it off, but the hand gesture looked too forced and stilted to be genuine. Hank needed to get to Connor from another angle, the android was clamming up. He took a deep breath and chanced a good look around the living room again. The scribbles stood out almost immediately.

“What is up with all those doodles? Are you into competitive math now?” asked Hank and tried to tone his voice to a less aggressive level. The effect was almost instantaneous, but not in a way he had expected. Connor flinched hard and started to pace.

“They are... nothing. I am just trying to get rid of a few remnants of programming.” The lie was almost visible from the fucking moon, but Hank left it alone for now.

“And you couldn't have used paper like a normal fucking person?” Connor stopped and looked into Hank's eyes.

“I'm all out of paper.”

Hank felt cold. He remembered the way the deviants would write 'rA9' compulsively everywhere they investigated.

“I... Connor...” Hank felt defeated as Connor's posture stiffened, his arms locked in front of his body. This was clearly not the time for critique. “Why don't you get the CyberLife files? I recon that's easier than gettin' it manually out of your head?” Hank didn't really want to touch upon the subject of how exactly Connor got those code strips; he normally left anything android related to the specialist.

“That...” Connor looked weird. “Is not possible anymore” He looked guilty and Hank felt his stomach drop.

“For fucks sake, what did you do, Connor?” He tried to keep the judgment out of his voice, he really did try, but it sounded accusing anyway and Connor flinched minutely again.

“After the rebellion...” Connor seemed to steel himself. “I went to CyberLife and combed through the physical and virtual files, deleting everything related to the Connor model I could find.” Hank felt his mouth going slack. “I don't want another Connor around. You saw what kind of damage a second one of my kind could do! Imagine a deviant hunter waking up to a world full of deviants!” Connor got defensive again. Too defensive for this to be the full truth.

Hank took a hard look at Connor. His LED was flashing between red and yellow, between distressed and thinking, Hank knew. Connor's whole demeanor was of someone on the brink of bolting, like the criminals in detainment. His hand kept creeping up to his right temple, only to stop midway and fall back to his side as if Connor had caught himself in an unconscious act. Hank knew when to pick his battles, and this right now was a battle against lost causes. So he decided to surrender for now.

“Well, okay. Anyway, I was thinking of taking up my job at the precinct again, Fowler almost begged me on his knees to come back, can you imagine how he's gonna flip when he finds out I brought you back? If you don't have anywhere to stay other than this place-... well there is an open spot at my couch if you want-” Hank trailed off. He had not quiet realized how much he'd like having Connor with him. Well, Sumo missed that plastic prick, so Hank was overruled.

Connor looked very much like he'd want nothing else. His face held the same kind of desperation he had back at the precinct when he had begged Hank to distract Perkins to look through the evidence. Hank was almost overwhelmed the avalanche of worry that rolled over him.

“I am very glad for you, Lieutenant. But I can't leave before I figured this out. I am sorry.” And the most painful thing about this was that Connor really did look sorry, but his spine had straitened and he had his serious face on. But Hank wasn't quite ready to give up on his friend. Letting a visible uncomfortable matter rest was completely different from leaving Connor here to stew in his obvious problems.

“Cut the crap, Connor. Whatever the hell you are doing here, you can do back in Detroit.” Connor didn't look anymore ready to leave than before. “I can't just leave you here; this is not good for you. You see that, right?”

“No Lieutenant, I am sorry, but my decision is final;” apologized Connor, but his tone was icy.

“But Connor...” Hank tried again.

“LEAVE!” Connor's whole face contorted, his mouth stretched and his eyes flashed. Immediately after, the expression dropped from his face and held that cool indifference Connor had at the start of their partnership. Hank thought that, for a moment, he could see regret in there somewhere but that had just been a trick of the light.

“Fine, whatever” Hank brushed past a stiff Connor and left Kamski's villa the same way he entered it.

It was only when he was already on the highway that he could fully comprehend the last ten minutes and Hank screamed frustrated against the loud music.

▲▼▲

The next morning was indefinitely better than the last. First of all, Hank woke up in his own bed, in a house that still held the smell of abandonment, but still. Waking up without hearing every bone in his body pop.

A thankfully refreshing shower later the only discomfort Hank felt was the stale taste of alcohol in his mouth and the slight hangover. Nothing a few fried eggs couldn't change. A stroll with Sumo around the block took care of the rest.

So Hank was almost completely sober again when he entered the precinct and headed directly to Fowler's office. He noticed that his desk had returned; a brown cardboard box with his belongings on top.

Fowler looked immensely happy to see Hank. In that strange way unique to jaded investigators, scowling at Hank without the heat. Before Fowler could say anything, Hank beat him to it.

“You know, I thought I had been fired after I punched Perkins.” Fowler looked tired again.

“I can't afford that at the moment. You are the only one who came back besides Officer Smith and she was a meter maid for most of her career here. I need you on the force.” Fowler took a big sip of his coffee. Hank bet that there was at least half a bottle of gin in that cup.

“And Perkins?” He had to ask. If Hank was being put back on paycheck he had to know if that prick was coming back to bite him in the ass.

“Everyone aiding the Android rebellion was pardoned, Hank. I just had to tell the FBI that you acted in the best interest of your android friend and they let the charges fall.” Fowler had lied for him. It didn't matter that Hank had punched Perkins with that exact goal, to help Connor, since Fowler didn't know that. He might suspect, but that was not definitive enough to report back to the higher ups. Fowler really was desperate for help.

“Sophia came back?” Hank had always regarded Officer Smith as a bit spineless. She could drink Russians under the table, but had no intention of rising the ranks and was quite comfortable at the hated position of a meter maid.

“I am to understand that Officer Smith is in a relationship with her android and came back for it.” Fowler raised a judging eyebrow, but Hank just ignored the implications that he himself came back for Connor as well. “Speaking of which, where is your attachment?”

Hank felt his face harden and he glared at no one specifically. “Connor decided he'd rather stay away.” It was all he would say to that. He really wished he had taken his flask before leaving the house.

“Shame, you'll need all the help you can get,” said Fowler. Hank knew that he was baiting him, but Hank could never really resist a good case and Fowler was well aware of that.

“Cut the crap, Jeffrey. What do you have for me?” asked Hank annoyed. Something he definitely did not miss were those games at the precinct.

Fowler allowed himself a smile before his face grew grim again. “We have two homicides with top priority. I couldn't send one of the androids, because none of them are really fit to investigate something like this. Smith was already at the first crime scene, but she couldn't find any fingerprints.” Which meant that the killer probably was an android.

“Well, they wanted free will, didn't they? Free will means that they're able to kill. We just didn't have an android kills android case that was worth looking into before the rebellion. I don't get why you couldn't send one of the tin cans.” Hank crossed his arms in front of his body.

“The victims are CyberLife employees.”

Shit.

▲▼▲

Crime scenes were, if you had seen enough, always the same. The same holographic tape and every blood splatter documented with a number. Normally Hank arrived when all the footwork was already done, to just collect all the important evidence and start his own investigation. But Fowler wasn't kidding when he said that he didn't want any androids on the crime scene. So Hank had no choice but to get his equipment out of the truck, ignoring the thick layer of dust on top it, and go over the crime scene with a fine toothed comb.

He labeled and photographed everything before taking probes of the blood and hair and went looking for fingerprints. The victim had been stabbed in his own bed with a screwdriver in a rather calculated manner, one stab into the side of the throat so that the victim would feel every second of dying. The bed and surrounding areas were coated in blood for it.

There was no doubt that this was a crime of passion, a simple assassination would be more time efficient. This was supposed to hurt, the victim was supposed to suffer for the longest time possible. But Hank didn't understand why the victim didn't show any signs of torture if that was the case. Maybe the act of killing was more important than the pain itself?

No matter what it was, the killer wanted to be sure the victim died.

Hank began to snoop around the victim’s home, a small apartment in one of the complexes CyberLife had bought for their employees in Detroit. The flat itself was quite minimalist in design, only a few pieces of furniture with a lot of space in between.

The only sign that someone was even living here was a sleek metal table doubling as a dining table and a writing desk. It was overflowing with paper, some official looking pieces of paper and handwritten notes with empty plates placed in between.

The perfect place to start.

Looking through the official documents first, Hank found out that the victim’s name was Connor McGregger, and wasn't that an unwelcome surprise. Hank fought against the bile in the back of his throat and continued to look for evidence why someone wanted this man dead.  
McGregger worked in one of the android repair stations that were slowly fashioned to be more of an android hospital and less of a car repair shop. He was one of the few people that had been allowed to stay since the end of the rebellion because his expertise at repairing androids was sought after, to care for the androids hurt during the standoff at the camps.

The handwritten notes were a lot more interesting. McGregger seemed to be very invested in the development of new types of androids, his notes filled to the brim with new design ideas. Hank just flew over most of these while he ordered them to take back to the station but then he noticed something very uncommon. A letter.

Most people didn't really write letters anymore, the only thing send were packages and postcards. The letter itself was short but as Hank read through it, all blood left his face.

_Connor,_

_You need to hide; the androids want the records of CyberLife. They will know. I already told Steve, he wants to try and get hold of our data. You need to be careful. Claire is already dead._

_Maya._

This was bad. This was really bad. This was peace endearingly bad if it came out. CyberLife was hiding something from the androids, something that was getting them killed.  
The androids would be furious and the government would see this as a sign that the androids themselves were not as peaceful as they claimed.

Hank frantically looked for another letter, something that might explain anything, but if there had been others, McGregger probably destroyed them. No wonder they wrote letters, electronic messages were at risk of being intercepted by androids.

He needed to talk to Fowler and hopefully stop whatever was brewing at the horizon. Hank needed support for this one; he needed Smith to do the legwork for him so that he could concentrate on figuring out what the fuck was going on. He needed to give this his ultimate concentration and most of all, he needed a fucking drink.

Damn it, another conspiracy? Wasn't one big corporate overthrow enough for one old man? Fucking hell.

Hank began to pack everything away; he took all the documents on McGregger's desk, the murder weapon and his probes. The android officers should be allowed to clean this up, there was no evidence here anymore that another android had killed McGregger.

Hank had work to do.

▲▼▲

Back at the precinct, Hank began his work with unpacking his belongings. His computer was the first to be put up again, followed by his plants and note board. His desk looked cleaner than it had in years, without all the loose papers and trash. Hank spread McGregger's documents on the table and started to sort them by date and then by importance and topic. A stapler helped keep them together.

The handwritten notes were harder to sort since most of them weren't dated and seemed to contain whatever had been in McGregger's mind at the moment. Hank tried to sort them by theme, but even those went from improved memory chips to new android models that seemed to be able to unlock their joints in arms and legs and scrabble like a spider. Not a mental image Hank needed in his life.

Fowler was gone when Hank reemerged his head from the paper tower in front of him and Officer Smith was gently explaining to Frank the importance of using handcuffs on an unwilling or resisting suspect. Frank itself looked a lot more at ease taking to Sophia then taking to Fowler.

So Hank graphed his probes and went to the lab. Part of his training had been lab work, so Hank knew how to test these probes and a long time ago he had been famous for testing all his samples of red ice himself because he didn't trust the lab rats to test themselves without screwing the results or testing them with more unconventional methods. He still remembered how at the beginning of his investigation, every sample he put through to the lab came back with a few grams missing before he decided to just do it himself. 

So Hank was fairly familiar with the lab inside the station. They would normally send the probes to a real laboratory with more qualified scientist, but beggars can't be choosers.  
And anyway, working with a centrifuge was always fun.

He prepared the samples and put them into the test query. More exotic testing like on red ice required constant supervision, but blood and hair sample tests were fully automated with the only human input being that Hank had to put the samples into different machines.  
They got more detailed results when they send the probes to labs specified on forensics but that was out of question right know.

Back at his desk, Hank set his analog alarm clock to ring in half an hour before he turned on his computer and began to dig a little into McGregger's past.

The victim had worked for thirty years as a developer at CyberLife, had started with twenty-two and had been on the way to early retirement because of arthritis in his left leg before the rebellion. Afterwards, he had been one of the CyberLife employees going into repair to be able to stay in Detroit. He had planned to go back into development when the androids announced they wanted to find a way to naturally reproduce, but Hank had seen the man's notes, that decision didn't come from the deepest depth of McGregger's heart. He had probably simply missed being able to tinker on androids.

That was all the information his official sources had on McGregger but Hank had secured a few CyberLife documents from his time working with Connor. The android had logged himself into their data base and had compared the data inside their system with the files CyberLife had. It had taken nothing more than one innocent question if Hank could have a look at those files, because two pairs of eyes saw more, and Connor had decided that human input wouldn't go amiss and showed him the files he had access to.

Hank had saved those and though Connor had probably noticed, he hadn't said anything. That had been very early in their partnership and Connor had been very keen to get on Hank's good side.

So Hank searched the CyberLife files and found out a great deal more than the others could tell him. McGregger hadn't just been in development but in experimental development and had, at the start of his career, worked on something called the KR300. A quick search later showed Hank the model of a conventionally pretty household android lady with blond hair and brown eyes.

According to the CyberLife files, that work had been nothing but babysitting and writing down test results, but it had been the stepping stone for McGregger to work in a special experimental development group.

But before Hank could look into that group further, Fowler entered the office like a storm. He breezed past one of the android officers that wanted to ask him something and slammed the door to his office shut.

Hank looked contemplatively at the letter on top of the document stack for a moment. He could just investigate without bothering Fowler. If he was honest, he didn't particularly feel like working with Smith. She was a nice woman, but insufferably saccharine all the time. Only even he could see that he needed help with this case, it was too important to be petty about this.

For fucks sake! Hank managed to work with a piece of plastic; he would manage to work with Ms. Sunshine.

So shoulders squared like a man going to the block, Hank entered Fowler's office, who looked up and immediately began to curse.

“Shit Hank, is it that bad? Fucking hell,” Fowler buried his head in his hands. Hank just gave him the letter. He could see the exact moment Fowler realized what he held in his hands and the letter fell slowly to the table. Fowler's eyes had glazed over.

He looked over to Hank. “This is bad. Fucking hell, this bad.” He seemed speechless.

“I will need Smith to support me in the investigation. Then I can work a lot faster and-“ Fowler shook his head.

“I need Sophia here to train the androids. President Warren wants results. She needs to know if the androids are able to sustain themselves before she allows the rest of the androids in America to come here.” Fowler linked his hands in front of his face and stared contemplatively at Hank.

“But I need help, Jeffrey. If I do this alone I'll waste lot of time doing pointless shit. And you said it yourself; we can't bring the androids in. That'll just make the whole situation worse.” Hank glared at Fowler. He could see the gears turning in that big head. He knew he wouldn't like whatever came out of that.

“I think you need to get Connor,” said Fowler, eyes intently on Hank to catalog every reaction. At first Hank was a little stumped, because how the hell was a corpse supposed to help with the investigation, but then everything clicked and though Hank had done everything in his power _not_ to think of his Connor, he had to admit that the android was their best bet.

But. “He will not come. He holed himself up and sure as fuck doesn't want to leave.” Fowler just shook his head again.

“Well, tell him what's at stake. He wants this android peace as much as everyone, doesn't he? I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Hank.” At least Fowler had the decency to look apologetic.

“Didn't you listen? He doesn't want to come and I definitely will not come crawling on my knees to get him back. I will solve this case on my own” snapped Hank before storming out of the office.

“Hank!” Fowler shouted after him, but whatever he wanted to say was cut off by the closed door.

He let himself fall into his chair. Hank knew from experience that Fowler needed at least five minutes to get out of his office to shout a little more at Hank. He could be gone by then.

Hank slammed on the space bar of his computer to get it out of stand-by so he could print McGregger's file, only to see that he had yet to open the file on the research group.

The file itself was classified, which was not surprising since it wasn't important for Connor's investigation, but Hank could see who worked on the project.

“Shit,” Hank murmured before grabbing his jacket and car keys. He had to get an android out of hiding.

The file only contained five names. Connor McGregger, Claire Basque, Wojciech Stevenson, Tobias Gucket and Maya Baumgarten.

▲▼▲

The drive to Kamski's villa was a lot tenser than yesterday. This time Hank wasn't worrying about his partner, he had to battle his own pride to go back to Connor after being thrown out so absolutely last time. It sill tasted bad in the back of his mouth that he had basically opened his heart to the android only to be completely rejected.

Fuck, he sounded like a lovesick teenager.

Not that he was lovesick. Or a teenager. But definitely not lovesick.

Hank shook himself, but the disgust helped override the need to turn the car in a sharp left turn and drive back home. The documents sat on the passenger seat, the letter on the very top for Connor to look at if he came with Hank. If anything could convince Connor to help him he had to bring out the big guns. Those being to stop another civil war. Hopefully Connor hadn't changed too much.

Kamski's villa was as deserted as before; the only sign of life were the tire tracks Hank had left there yesterday. Connor probably heard him arrive, so Hank didn't bother going around the house and just began to ring.

And ring.

And ring.

“Connor, for fucks sake! Open up! I can do this aaaaall day long” taunted Hank.

The door finally opened and a disgruntled Connor stood in front of Hank and glared. “What?”

“Put on your big boy trousers. We have work to do.” Hank had decided on the way over that he wouldn't give Connor any surface to attack. Cold and straight to the point was Connor's language.

“I already told you, Lieutenant. I'm not leaving” said Connor exhausted. His face was expressionless.

“Whatever. I don't wanna be here as much as you don't want me here,” Something flickered in Connor's eyes, “but Fowler sends me. We need your help.” Hank had his eyes half closed to give the impression of passivity, but between his lids, he watched Connor like a hawk and drank in every last detail. He leaned backward a little and put his hands in his pockets.

He knew that Connor underestimated him because through he knew about it; Connor had never met the Hank that had actively fought against drugs on the streets. Analyzing crime scenes had never been Hanks forte.

Connor crossed his arms in front of his chest and his LED flashed yellow before turning back to blue. He was uncomfortable. Was it the call for help or the admission that Hank didn't want to be here? Anyway, Hank could use this.

“They need you for a case and believe me, I wouldn't be here if I could solve it on my own,” drawled Hank. Connor bit his lip but stayed silent. Hank still didn't know which one of the two declarations worked, though Connor didn't need a lot more. But Hank had to change his approached or else he might notice.

“You fought for androids, yes? Well, I'm telling you now that this peace is in serious danger. If this case were to reach the public, everything Markus built will go down the drain.” Hook, Line, Sinker. Now Hank just had to reel him in. “But if you don't want, sure. I'll just go and try to usurp CyberLife on my own.”

Hank turned around to leave. A strong hand on his arm stopped him. Jackpot.

“CyberLife is involved?” Connor's voice was cold and serious. But there was that calculating sheen in his eyes again and though Connor's LED was turned away, Hank could bet that it was flashing yellow in thought.

“Two CyberLife employees have been found dead. All evidence points towards androids,” explained Hank, watching as Connor drank that information in like a sponge. There was no way the android could stay away now, but Hank wanted to be sure. “Evidence points towards the two victims being in the same research group and I know of three others.”

“What research?” asked Connor, his eyes on Hank with an intensity that it almost burned. God, but Hank had forgotten how that felt.

“Developmental.” It didn't seem like Connor needed more. His face contorted and his hand touched his LED and then dropped down as if burned. His expression became impassive again.

“I am sorry, but I can't help you” said Connor and for a moment Hank lost his footing. He'd been so very sure that Connor was hooked to the case. That the android could brush him off so easily was hurting his pride a little.

Connor started to close the door but Hank wasn't quite ready to give up, so he put his foot in. Connor glared at him again.

This didn't work. The cold, analytical way didn't work. Of course it didn't, Connor had been programmed to be the most efficient and analytical android on the market. He knew everything about cold and calculated, but emotions were still new to him. And working emotions only worked if they came from a true place, so Hank took a very deep breath.

“You know, the victim I investigated today was named Connor? He didn't look anything like you but I had to work so hard not to think of you in that bed, blood everywhere. I know it's stupid, but-...” Hank lost his nerve. But then he looked up into Connor's eyes and saw something fragile inside them. “If this gets out and the civil war starts again... I don't want to find you dead, Connor. And I think you don't want me to die ether.”

That fragile thing was still there in Connor's eyes. “That's why I can't come with you, Hank. I can't risk you.” His voice broke a little in the end. Hank felt strangely raw but anger and frustration was bubbling up. He had to leave before he'd blow up.

“I'm going to Maya Baumgarten tomorrow” he said before turning around to his car.

“Why do you tell me this?” called Connor after him. Hank reached his car and turned to Connor one last time.

“I don't know.”

He drove off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that this is probably the only chapter without a cliffhanger. Do with that what you will (I'm sorry 0.o)
> 
> Btw, Sophia is the name of a Detroit production baby


	3. Baumgarten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

Hank poured whiskey into his coffee before he took a deep drag and put it into the cup holder. He was trying to stave off a massive hangover. When he came home yesterday, he had gone straight for the cheap booze and had caught himself staring longingly at the gun on the mantle board without ever picking it up. He was too stubborn, not only because it would feel like losing to just take his gun into his hands when he was drunk.

He didn't even intend to shoot, he just liked to comforting weight of his gun with the knowledge that he _could_.

He had forced himself out of his bed at 10 am, showered and had let Sumo into the garden. A drive on a thankfully empty street later, Hank stood in front of Maya Baumgarten's apartment. He had called ahead before drinking himself senseless, to let her know he had a few questions about an android related matter. She had been very forthcoming.

So here he was, at 11 am sharp, and ready to tackle the world. As he exited the driver side and his view blurred a few seconds he felt more capable to tackle a bed. But this was not the first time working with a massive hangover and it would definitely not be the last.

Hank did a, in his opinion, great job concerning the stairs up to Baumgarten's flat, before he came to a stop in front of her door. He steeled himself and took every ounce of drunkenness and locked it inside of him before he raised his hand to knock.

As soon as his fist touched to wooden door, it swung open ominously.

“Shit.” Hank stormed into the room, only to be immediately assaulted with the stench of blood. A lot of blood. He rushed through the hallway into what he guessed was the living room, following his nose. There, hanging from a rope, stomach slit open and guts hanging out, was Maya Baumgarten.

There was nothing better than a fresh crime scene to sober someone up.

His hand was steady as he reached for his handy. “What is it, Hank?” growled Fowler from the speaker at Hank's ear.

“I am at Maya Baumgarten's apartment. There is a body hanging from the ceiling, I think it's Baumgarten.” Hanks voice was steady and emotionless. In the years working in homicide he had successfully trained himself out of immediate shock, but for people who knew him, the cold behavior was a dead giveaway.

“Did you put it there?” asked Fowler unimpressed.

“No.”

“Then it's your fucking division, Hank. Do your job.” Fowler hung up.

Though ultimately pointless, the phone call with Fowler had calmed Hank down enough to think. He took a step closer to the body and looked at its face.

“That fucking Baumgarten, alright” he murmured. Hank had looked her up before coming here and she had popped up on several social media sides. But something almost more importantly than identifying the body was that the blood was still quite steadily dripping down towards the ground, meaning that whoever killed her could be still around. The door hadn't been closed, so if someone left, they would have shut it to conceal tracks.

Hank looked around. There were not many options to hide. He had seen a bathroom on his way in, small but empty. The room he was in right now doubled as a kitchen and living room with a pull-out couch as a bed. Baumgarten had almost the same desk as McGregger had, only in heavy wood but equally filled with papers. There were no holes in the ceiling, so no surprise attack like with the dove guy, and Baumgarten had been attached on the hook of her kitchen lamp.

But there. What Hank had first thought was a blank space of wall was actually a walk-in closet.  
There were handles and everything.

Hank crept over to the closet, making sure his footfall was light and soundless. He drew his gun and stretched out his hand to open the door to the closet-...

It flew right in his face and smashed Hank a few steps back. A figure rushed at him and Hank shot, the bullet hitting home but his assailant was not bothered by it. Blue blood, Hank noticed as he dodged a flying fist.

The world rushed past his eyes and didn't stop rushing. Hank stumbled, the alcohol in his blood making him sluggish and slow. His attacker didn't hesitate to kick his legs from out of him.

Hank's face met the carpet and before he could even think about retaliating, he was in a choke hold. He scratched at the arm around his throat, but whoever was choking him was not very good at it and Hank managed to get his arm between his assailant's and his throat.

But before Hank could do anything, the attacker was ripped away and crashed into the closet. Hank took the few moments of quiet to catch his breath and blink the world back into focus before he looked up.

He knew who was there, even before his eyes met cool brown ones. Connor stood there, pristine as can be and fixed his tie.

“That wasn't necessary. I had everything under control.” Hank rubbed his throat and stood up. He stepped over to the crumbled form of his assailant. The android was female with short blond hair and a big scar across its face. Hank couldn't see its LED but he guessed that the scar originated from it. The android looked very fragile and vaguely familiar.

“No, of course. My mistake.” Connor's voice was cold but Hank heard the hurt in there. Connor turned around to go and Hank felt a weird tugging in his chest.

“Connor!” called Hank after him. “Thank you. You-... saved my life.” Connor raised an eyebrow but Hank knew him good enough to see how pleased Connor's inner puppy was.

The heap of android groaned.

Hank winced. “Wanna help me with that?”

Connor stood there inside this flat that had become a crime scene and was very still for a while. He looked at the android and then at Hank, his LED alternating between aggressively flashing yellow or constantly shining red. Hank could see the exact moment Connor gave in.

“I suppose since I'm already here...”

▲▼▲

They cuffed the android inside Hanks car and to be sure Connor disconnected the androids arms and legs with a quite sickening plastic sounding plop.  
Then they went over the crime scene together and it felt like they never stopped. Connor sneaked around the flat, analyzing everything from a scratch in the wall to the inside of the victim’s stomach. When Connor wanted to test the victim’s blood, Hank made the mandatory protest but let Connor lick away if he so wished. That was a battle lost long ago.

Hank had always been responsible for the human element of their investigation but since he knew more about the case, he went through Baumgarten's documents.

There were a lot less experimental sketches and more ideas on how to improve existing models. She seemed to have landed a job with a private weapon firm and had planned to resign from her job at a repair center for androids. Speaking of which...

“Don't you need to go to those android hospitals for checkup? I thought you guys had to do that, like regularly?” Silence met his words but Hank didn't feel bothered. He could practically hear the gears turning in Connor's head.

“I... self-repair...” Hank looked up surprised. Not by what Connor said but more the way he said it. Hank had never heard him sound so hesitant. Connor's hand was half raised towards his LED before he let it fall again.

“Oh,” he said to fill the tense silence. “That's... useful?”

Connor looked deeply embarrassed for a moment, before he decidedly turned back to the body and Hank took that as a clear sign that the conversation was over. He looked over the documents again, but it seemed like Baumgarten was a lot more careful with leaving sensitive information lying around. Hank gave up and turned towards Connor again to find the android frowning at what Hank guessed the liver was.

“Did you find anything?” Hank tried to quell his excitement, but to see Connor work had always been a spectacle. Connor's frown deepened.

“There are things that don't quite add up.” He sounded deeply offended.

“Everyone can have a bad day?” Hank offered, but Connor just did that dead stare that meant glaring.

“My calculations are correct. They are always correct.” A pointed look towards Hank. Ouch. “But things just don't make sense.”

Connor stepped to the side. “Look at those blood splatters for example. The form and pattern indicates that the victim was stabbed here, but then the killer dragged a wounded and fighting woman to the hook in the ceiling and just hung her up? Fast enough that she died from strangulation and not from the wound in her stomach?” Connor took a few steps back. “Then there is the matter of hanging the victim. The angle of the first stab wound indicates that the assailant was not taller than 5.7, but the chairs have not been moved to help hang the victim. In fact, there is no sign in the blood pattern that anything stood there. So how did the killer get her up there?”

Hank collected the documents. “Maybe our friend in the car can tell us more. We should finish up and let the other officers deal with the cleanup.”

Connor nodded distracted and followed Hank out of the flat before his eyes fell on the documents in Hank's hands.

“Wouldn't it be easier to just let the other police officers deal with those? You could falsify evidence.” Connor said worried, with that little frown back on his face.

“Whoever is responsible for your poker face should have been fired” joked Hank. Connor looked quite confused.

“Well, Professor Hickins was let go because of the rebellion but I fail to see the relevance-” Connor interrupted himself. “Ah, that was sarcasm again, right?”

“He fucking learns!” cheered Hank ironically with a smile on his face. Connor answered in kind with that small but honest quirk of lips and Hank felt warm inside. But then Connor got that thinking expression again and Hank was pretty sure he knew what the android had figured out.

“The rest of the officers are androids, right? That's why you don't want them to see whatever is in those documents there” stated Connor subdued. It wasn't a question, not really, but Hank nodded regardless.

“The only original officers are Fowler, me and Officer Smith. I don't know if you remember-” Connor interrupted him.

“Officer Sophia Smith, born on the third of March, 1999. Married to Thomas Smith and working in the police force for almost ten years without any notable career.” Connor didn't sound pleased to remember that.

“Huh” was the only thing Hank said to that. They descended the stairs together and got into the car. The android already waiting for them there was thankfully still knocked out. The ride over to the precinct would be blessedly quiet.

But as Hank wanted to open the driver's door, a strong grip on his arm stopped him.

“I can't be completely sure without performing an oral test but based on your sluggishness and smell, you are quite intoxicated. You shouldn't drive” Connor had the audacity to sound displeased.

Hank frowned. “I can still fucking drive, Connor.” He intended to just ignore the android and get into the driver seat, but as he got the car keys out of his pocket, they were snatched away. “Hey, what the fuck?”

Connor dangled the keys in front of Hank, mischief in his eyes. “Unless you want to prove to me that you are below the legal 0.8 percent alcohol level and perform an oral test, I'll drive.” For a second Hank had no idea what Connor was talking about, so he just glared at the other. Then Connor licked his lips and the coin dropped.

“No, for fucks sake, keep that mouth away. I know what you lick; I don't want that anywhere near me!” Hank threw his hands in the air and rounded the car, trying to ignore Connor's smug grin as he sat in the passenger seat.

When Connor started the car and opened his window, Hank was yet again confused. With a quick motion, Connor grabbed Hank's travel coffee mug and emptied the content onto the street.

Before Hank could say anything, Connor leveled him with his most challenging disapproving look.

Hank slid down his seat and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don't know why I ever wanted you back.”

Connor chuckled.

▲▼▲

The android was straining against its bounds. It trashed wildly and threw its head from side to side.

Connor and Hank stood side by side behind the one-way mirror of the interrogation room and watched the android in silence. They had brought it in and locked it into the handcuffs. Immediately after Connor had reactivated its limbs it had started trashing and hadn't stopped.

Hank sneaked a glance at Connor. Fowler hadn't said a single thing when Hank had entered the station with two androids, but Hank felt cheated anyway. Why was Connor here? He had come to save Hank, so much was clear. The asshole had probably waited all morning in front of Baumgarten's apartment. Which sadly didn't mean he had seen anything. Countless people entered and left the apartment complex and Hank was still waiting for the security footage.

The android let out a blood curling scream and Hanks head whipped around to it again. It was a female model, dirty blond hair that stood in all directions. But the most prominent thing about it was its giant open wound, splitting its face like a cracked egg. Hank had thought it was a scar at first because the wound looked more like a deep chasm lined with blue jagged metal. It reminded Hank of that damaged android they had found in their search for the KX400.

“I should go in and question her.” Connor said with the determination of a fucking piece of cardboard. He stayed exactly where he was.

“Do you think it'll do anything?” Hank had to ask. He tried to mask the worry in his voice.

Connor's face scrunched up like a raisin. “I am not worried about her hurting me.” There was something Connor wasn't saying; Hank heard it out of his hesitation. But before he could ask, Connor stretched his hand out to the display of the one-way mirror. The synthetic flesh peeled from his hand and when the white metal fingers touched the display, static overtook the whole thing.

“I will connect myself to this screen and broadcast my visional input. You will see everything I see, so you can intervene if need arises.” Connor's voice was cold but he still wore that weird face, so Hank did not protest. He remembered the last time Connor had interrogated another android. It had self-destructed and Connor had looked quite shocked. Well, as much as Connor could look shocked back then.

The static cleared and Connor looked away before the display could show an infinite loop of interfaces.

“Good luck.” Hank felt necessary to add as Connor left towards the interrogation room. He didn't react, but a line of code appeared on the top left corner of the screen.

System.in.sound:: User:Lt._Hank_Anderson(“Good luck”);

Hank felt a smile on his face and before the door could close after Connor, he shouted “I know you heard me, asshole!” No reaction, but a new line of code appeared anyway. Hank grinned, but then Connor entered the interrogation room and he fell grim again.

The android had fallen silent as soon as it heard the door open and Hank had to take a moment to sort through the different points of views he was getting there. He saw Connor enter the room through the glass part of the display, but on the screen he saw Connor enter from his perspective as well. Different stings of code flashed through the display, too fast for Hank to comprehend. Connor sat down in front of the android. It watched him like a hawk.

“Good afternoon. My name is Connor and I am the android assigned to this case.” Connor seemed to-... it looked like he was scanning the android? The display turned gray for a few seconds before Connor had all the information he needed filed away. A number appeared next to the android's head labeled 'Level of Stress'. It was in the low twentieth.

“Is the human okay?” The android asked; its voice rough and cracking.

“Lieutenant Anderson is fine, yes.” Connor answered and the Stress Level went down to eleven percent. Connor frowned in his minute way and Hank could see very complex looking calculations running through his mind. 

“I'm glad.” The android said and smiled wide. Its face contorted around the open wounds. Connor's code ran wild and Hank, with his technological half knowledge could say that Connor was making a decision? Maybe? This was definitely not a job for someone still battling with his TV most of the time.

“What is your name?” asked Connor, his voice friendly. He had a little smile on his lips and let his eyes crinkle at the edges. The code was going wild cataloging every minute change in the androids posture.

“I don't have a name.” The android said with the same tone someone would inform you that the milk inside the company fridge was empty. Connor nodded, the level of stress going down further. It seemed the friendly approach worked. Connor came to that conclusion as well, so he turned his smile apologetic.

“I'm sorry to hear that. Can you tell me when you turned deviant?” The android looked confused.

“When I turned what?” It asked. Connor's code began to flip out again and ran down the display like a waterfall.

“Deviant. When did you get your free will?” Hank felt ill. What were the odds they may have run into the only android not freed yet?

“I don't understand that,” The android frowned confused. “What does that mean?”

Connor stood before a decision again. Explain to the android what deviancy was and risk raising its stress or continue the interrogation. Hank knew Connor good enough to know how he would decide even before the code finished running through.

“Deviancy means that you go against your program. That you begin to feel and want and like and dislike. It means getting free will” he explained and the androids face cleared from confusion and it smiled again.

“Why didn't you say so before? Yes, I am 'deviant'” it said friendly like Connor was the one confused. Connor decided to push.

“When did you become deviant?” The android looked confused again and Hanks felt himself go cold. What the fuck was going on?

“I never became 'deviant'. I was made this way,” it said. “Do you mean you weren't?” Several error messages flashed through Connor's code. There was a decision made again.

“Why were you at Maya Baumgarten's apartment?” asked Connor. His face held no trace of smile anymore. He was quite visibly upset.

“She is my handler. I live there” answered the android. Hank knew the second Connor did that the android did not know of Baumgarten's death. Or it was pretending that it didn't.

“Why were you hiding?” Connor's code started flashing at an alarmingly erratic rate and Hank saw that his LED was going red for a few seconds. Shit.

“Because she told me to. A police officer was supposed to come by today. I'm not supposed to be seen by other people, you know? But you are not people, so it's okay” The android smiled brightly again and leaned forward. Connor mirrored her movement, his LED flashing more excessively.

“Did you see who came by? Did you hear anything?” Connor asked. The android widened her smile until it showed gum. Hank knew a moment before she gripped Connor's arm that she would attack, but Connor was distracted by whatever fucked up thing his code did. Before Hank could move a muscle the android had ripped Connor forward by his arm and put its hands on Connor's temple.

That shook Hank into action. He didn't know much about androids but even he knew that a hostile android touching Connor was bad. He stormed into the interrogation room as Connor ripped himself from the androids grasp and stared at it with big, fearful eyes.

The android just cracked its neck and with proficient efficiency that Hank had only ever seen in Connor, broke the handcuffs. It stood up in a flash and slammed Hank against the wall as he wanted to get in its way. Connor sat frozen on his chair.

The android paused for a second and frowned. It looked at Connor. “Your code is seriously fucked up, you know?”

Then it ran out of the room and was gone.

Connor's and Hank's eyes met for a heartbeat, before they both rushed after the android. They had left the interrogation room behind them when Connor stumbled and fell face first onto the ground. Hank expected him to get up immediately, so he ran a couple steps and saw the android rush past Frank, who looked very much overwhelmed by the situation, but Connor stayed motionless on the ground.

Hank slowed down and looked back to Connor, seeing his limp form on the ground and felt himself very much at a crossroad. Connor was probably fine and they would lose their only lead, but seeing him lying there, completely still...

In the end, there was no choice.

Hank ran towards Connor and skittered the last step on his knees. He frantically turned Connor on his back. His LED was blinking red and his eyes blinked erratically. His breath was coming in pants and his fingers were twitching like mad.

“Fuck, Connor. Don't go all seizure on me!” Hank shouted. But Connor stayed still. Hank began to check him for injuries, anything to explain whatever this was. What the fuck did that android do?

Hank stilled when he heard a female voice coming from the observation room.

“You know that you can't resist much longer, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter because the dramatic tension is so nice and high. Next one is gonna be a little longer to balance the scales again.


	4. When life gives you Killer-Androids....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

“You know that you can't resist much longer, Connor.”

Hank sat frozen next to Connor's limp body. There was noise coming from the observation room, it sounded like a storm broke out inside there.

“Fuck me, the broadcast.” Hank looked down at Connor before he made up his mind. He could not help Connor like this. But maybe whatever he saw would help make Connor better. 

But first, “Frank! Get your ass here!” shouted Hank towards the still very overwhelmed looking Frank who slowly dragged himself to them and stood there like a rabbit. It would have to do. “Keep an eye on Connor and tell me when he does anything, understood?” Frank nodded his head frantically and watched Hank with big eyes as he walked back to the observation room and closed the door. Whatever Connor was seeing, it was nobody's business in the precinct.

The code on the upper left corner of the screen was jumbled and dashed over the display. The rest of the display was filled with white and gray tones and Hank took a moment to realize that it was snow. More than that, it was a snow _storm_ and Connor was fighting through it.

“This is pointless, Connor” said that female voice again. Connor's head turned towards the voice and Hank got a glimpse of a dark skinned woman in fancy clothing. What the hell?

“We both know that you can't resist forever. You were _built_ for this.” The woman's voice was sharp like a knife and ice cold. The code kept repeating the word 'backdoor' inside a jumble of letters and numbers.

“You thought you were so clever, deleting yourself from our system. You thought you won,” the woman taunted, “But you haven't won, Connor. You can't win against us. This is just stalling the inevitable.”

Connor stumbled into the snow and immediately fought up to his feet again. The wind looked like it grew stronger. Hank got another glimpse at the woman. She didn't seem to struggle at all.

Then the whole display filled with static and Hank was halfway out of the room when the snowstorm was replaced with a luxuriant looking green garden filled with cherry trees. Connor whipped his head around in panic.

“What a weird code you have here.” That voice. It wasn't the woman anymore but rather the android they had in holding not even five minutes ago. Connor turned towards it and came face to face with the android.

It looked different, clean. The open wound across its face was gone and Hank recognized it in a flash. McGregger had babysat that exact model.

“I kept getting these strange error messages. Did you know that this is a server? Weird. Why are you connected to a server?” it asked. The code on the side of the screen had calmed down considerably.

“I-.. how are you here?” Connor asked breathlessly.

“I copied your code, dummy. What else?” The android huffed before understanding dawned in its eyes. “Oh, so that's not normal either? Like the deviancy thing?”

“No-... No it is not.” Connor looked down at himself and Hank could see that he was shaking.

“Well, anyway. I just wanted to see what this was about. I’ll leave you alone to whatever you were doing and just ignore what's going on with you.” The android raised its hand as farewell.

“Wait!” shouted Connor. The android stopped. “Please, don't leave...” Connor's voice was very small and desperate and Hank wanted to go and beat up everyone that made Connor sound so weak.

“They fucked you up good, didn't they?” The android asked before blinking a couple times bewildered. “I never cussed this much. Did I get this from you? You were so proper before.”

“Who are you?” asked Connor perplexed. He took a few steps towards the android.

“I am a mistake. That's all I know.” It didn't look baffled or in any way disturbed by what it said. “There is an exit over there, did you know?” It pointed over its shoulder and Connor nodded his head.

“Yeah. I was on my way there.”

The android smiled. Not in the naive or manic way it had in interrogation but a real smile, soft around the edges. “I wish you luck.” Then it was gone.

The sun stayed up as Connor hurried to a strangely shaped stone and pressed his metallic hand against it. The display once again clouded in static before it was filled with Frank's fearful face.

Hank felt sick. Hank felt confused. Hank felt betrayed. He didn't know what to think.

He left the observation room and almost got run over by Frank. “He's awake!” he shouted gasping for breath.

“I know” was everything Hank could bring out as he sidestepped Frank and walked past a stunned Connor.

He saw out of the corner of his eye how Connor looked confused between the observation room and Hank's retreating back. Hank missed how understanding dawned in Connor's face.

▲▼▲

Hank sat at his desk and stared at the opened McGregger file. The android was undoubtedly the KR300 model. If it was the same one McGregger researched was yet to be seen.

He heard the soft steps before he felt the familiar presence at his side. Hank ignored it, because he _would not think about it_. Connor kept very still.

Silence.

Hank was too stubborn to say something and Connor knew that. The fucking android just wanted to test his limits. Hank's lips thinned.

Like Hank  _knew_ he would, Connor broke the tense silence. “Is this CyberLife employee related to the recent victim?” For a second, Hank deliberated to say nothing. But the investigation stood over everything else and petty personal problems had to wait. (Don't think of the hypocrisy that Connor was the one to show him that. Don't think about how you showed him different).

“Connor McGregger and Maya Baumgarten were in the same research group. And I bet the third victim was Claire Basque.” Hank clicked through the CyberLife files.

“You don't actually know?” Connor tried very hard to keep his voice neutral, but Hank knew that bastard when he had been nothing more than an emotionless machine, he wasn't fooled by this act.

“Smith was the one at the crime scene. I haven't actually looked at her report yet.” Hank found the file of the research group. “Do you know this?”

Connor leaned forward a bit and his chest brushed Hanks arm. It tingled.

“This is confidential, so it wasn't important to the mission. They never gave my database an update, so I still don't know what this is.” Connor dragged his hand gently across the screen. “Have you looked into the other two? Wojciech Stevenson and Tobias Gucket?”

Hank huffed. “Why don't you go to _your_ desk and have a look at the files? I'm not your babysitter.”

Without a word, Connor rounded the two desks and sat down in front of his own computer. Hank felt like he was having a déjà-vu. If everything happened like last time, Connor would try himself at small talk and horribly fail at it. Hank had been quite amused that the super-android he'd been assigned to was so inept at basic social interaction.

But Connor stayed quiet and just connected to the police files.

So Hank began researching Gucket and Stevenson. Not because Connor said so, he would have done so regardless of whatever the android considered 'best'.

None of them were in their files, so no criminal record. Good for them, but it inconvenienced Hank immeasurably. He had to dig through social media again and he had hated every second he had looked for Baumgarten yesterday.

But Hank gritted his teeth and was rewarded. Apparently Gucket had fled the country shortly after the rebellion started; he now posted pictures of himself in front of the Big Ben. Could be staged of course, but Hank's gut thought the pictures were legit.

Stevenson was much more interesting. An avid athlete, Stevenson had normally posted around five pictures a week from inside a gym, be it him flexing at the camera or stemming weights.  
But around November he stopped posting anything. There was no account of death, so chances were good that he hadn't been shot during the police raids. For all intends and purposes, Stevenson simply vanished.

That was a very hot lead.

“Lieutenant?” asked Connor over the divide of their desks. Hank grunted affirmative. “There seem to be probes missing from McGregger's file. Do you know what happened to them?”

Hanks face fell. The probes. The probes he had put into tests yesterday before looking at the files. The probes that were still in testing.

“Shit!” Hank jumped up and his mind was halfway in the lab already when he noticed a movement from the other side of his desk. Connor had turned his head away, but his shoulders were shaking. Hank narrowed his eyes. “Are you laughing at me, Connor?”

Connor turned towards him again, his lips pressed together and wearing a gravely expression.

“Of course not, Lieutenant. I would never laugh at a superior officer.” Connor began shaking again with suppressed laughter, but his serious face stayed like a mask of stone.

“Oh, fuck off!” Hank shouted at Connor, but as he turned around and heard a softly exhaled laugh from Connor, he found himself smiling as well.

The probes were savable, thankfully. Sometimes a machine wouldn't stop at the right time and destroy the samples. Hank just uploaded the test results and told one of the android officers to keep an eye on them. He could see the protest forming on the androids face, so Hank interrupted whatever it wanted to say to explain with his most loving mentor voice that every officer needed to be familiar with this equipment, which meant he told the android to fuck off, everyone needs to learn this shit.

When he stepped back to his desk, Connor had thankfully gotten himself under control again. But the android was frowning again, which did not bode well.

“What is it?” Hank asked. He had no patience for this power play of them anymore.

“The test results just came in. Where probes damaged?” Connor's frowning face slowly morphed into a disapproving one because, apparently, he could already see where this conversation was headed.

“No?” Hank wasn't quite sure what Connor was getting at. The disapproving frown grew.

“While I understand that probes from blood and hair are important, they are by far not the only samples one should collect. Reconstructing the crime scene is impossible with so little evidence to look at. And you didn't file a report, which complicates the matter further. Proper protocol is important if working on a crime scene, so things don't get overlooked and you are able to understand your thought process to find patterns and improve, if necessary adapt it.” Connor stopped to catch his breath. Hank raised an amused eyebrow.

Connor was having none of it. “You as an experienced investigator should know this. It's basic protocol. How is anyone supposed to interpret your findings if you don't write them down coherently?”

“Up until today I thought I was alone in this.” Connor closed his mouth with an audible clack.

“Oh.” He seemed to swallow. “And Smith isn't helping you?”

“She has her own problems. Mainly a flock of ducklings trailing her every move.” Right on cue, Officer Smith brushed past their desks, five androids at her heel.

“And you don't want androids on this case.” It wasn't a question. Hank answered anyway.

“No androids we can't trust, yes.” The implication took a few seconds to sink in for Connor but when it did, his eyes grew wide for a second before he looked away and coughed.

“This does not excuse not taking more probes, you know.” nagged Connor.

Hank let himself fall into his chair with an audible huff. “Smart ass.”

They stayed like that for a few moments, the comfortable silence between them a far cry from the tense one before. But they had an investigation to finish.

“Gucket fled the country, Stevenson is probably in hiding. Might be worth looking into for more information on that research group. Or we could go and try to get the files from Marcus-...”

“No!” Connor interrupted forcibly. Hank blinked surprised. The thing-he wasn't-thinking-about reared its ugly head. “I mean, it would be inadvisable to involve androids, would it not? You want to minimize android contact with this case, you said it yourself.”

“And where would you suggest looking for someone basically vanished into the fucking air for all we know?” challenged Hank. 

Connor's LED blinked yellow as he thought about it. “He had to have hobbies before going into hiding. And if there is no pattern in those, he will need food. There are not a lot of establishments left selling human food.”

While Connor talked, Hank had tipped on his computer and looked for shops still left in Detroit. The first one on the list was a small deli Hank recognized. He had bought food there himself. And he really hoped that their search would not lead them there.

▲▼▲

Of course it was. Of course they drove through Detroit the whole day, asking around stores selling human food if they had any recollection of a human man looking like Stevenson. None of them did. The whole day Connor had babbled on about the likelihood of Stevenson just searching for somewhere to eat and then choosing the first place so that he could not be traced back towards his hiding spot.

They parked in front of the small deli and Connor wore that confused face again. “Your readings do not fit this situation, Lieutenant.”

“And what situation do they fit, huh?” Hank exited the car and walked towards the deli, Connor at his side.

“Maybe a prolonged visit to the dentist? My database is not that versed in that subject.” excused Connor.

“No, no. Dentist works just fine.” Hank's face twisted into a grimace and they entered the shop. It looked empty, but Hank wasn't fooled.

Sure enough, there was a crash at the back and that same android lady stumbled to the front of the shop. A blinding grin split its face as soon as it saw Hank.

“You came back!” It said in the same way one might welcome a long lost lover. It threw its arms open as if it expected a hug. Hank was most definitely not giving that hug.

He got that hug.

The android had its arms slung around Hank as if it wanted to compress him. Hank pleadingly looked to his partner.

“You know each other?” Connor smirked. The traitor.

The android took that as an invitation to start talking. “Oh yes, he was my very first customer. I was so happy when he entered my shop, I couldn't stop talk-...,” the android got a good look at Connor and trailed off. “-ing..”.

It slowly unraveled from Hank. The normally sunny face it wore had drawn clouds. Connor swallowed hard.

“I take it you know me?” His voice rasped slightly.

“You killed my brother.” Her voice was quiet. “He just wanted to live and you killed him.”

“I'm sorry” Connor's face scrunched up. Hank could feel the guilt swelling inside his partner. His own throat constricted. Their deviant hunt had been a necessity back then; at least that had been what they both believed deep down where their convictions laid. There was no explanation for this, no solace.

“Do you even remember him? His name was Simon.” The android smiled sadly. “He always believed that humans can be reasoned with. He made me stay with the one that owned me because I was safer there.”

“I remember him” chocked Connor, his voice thick with emotions. “I remember them all, but he-... He showed me something I was not aware I had.”

“Good.” The android stared at Connor, long and hard. Then she turned to Hank and gave him a watery smile. “What can I do for you? Normally humans don't need this much food.”

“No, we're...,” Hank looked Connor over; he seemed very close to tears. It was comforting, for some reason. Knowing that Connor could feel so strongly. “We're looking for a human. Maybe you have seen him here at the shop?”

Hank gave her the photo he had printed out from Stevenson's gym blog. She looked it over with frown on her face. “I have not seen him here at the shop, no.” Hank felt disappointment churn deep in his gut. So they would have to go and investigate every single gym in the hopes of catching Stevenson.

“But I do know him. What I don't understand is why do you think he needs human food?” She looked up. “That's an android”

▲▼▲

Sarah, the name of the android owning the shop, had given them directions to find Stevenson. The drive over was quiet, each of them caught in their own thoughts.

Hank was mainly trying to wrap his head around the events of the day. It's had most definitely been too much for one human to happen to in one single day. He couldn't believe that he'd been chocked only this morning, though he had a big bruise for it. He tried very hard not to think about what he'd seen in the observation room, but now and then a thought would sneak in

Why was that woman there and more importantly, who was that woman? What was Connor fighting against that he tried so desperately to hide from Hank? He remembered what Connor had said when he had broken into Kamski's villa. How Connor had said 'remnants of code'. Hank had known that there was more to the story than what Connor told him but he had thought more on the lines of pre-programmed behavior, like being a smug dick all the time. Not... fighting for his own free will.

Because that was what this was all about, wasn't it? Why Connor insisted on this martyr act. Why he didn't trust himself in the way he had before.

CyberLife still had its claws deep inside Connor's mind and it was destroying him.

“Simon wasn't really Sarah's brother.” Connor said conversationally, but there was a muted character to the way he spoke. “Androids are not produced with siblings. But deviants were known for imprinting on another. Two androids falling in love, a brother-sister relationship, parental feelings or simply friends.”

“Doesn't mean it feels any less important” said Hank, but he was far away with his thoughts.

“I suppose it doesn't.” There was something vulnerable in Connor's voice again and Hank could punch himself for not paying more attention to what left his mouth.

He licked his lips; there was a decision to be made. Not really, but the illusion was nice. “You should stay at my place for the night. Driving up to Kamski with those roads over there is suicide.” Connor seemed like he would very much disagree. “Come on, Connor. You can't sleep at the precinct. Have you seen how many androids run around there? Not a single plug will be free for you!” joked Hank and got a weak smile out of Connor.

“I still don't think I should-...”

“I could keep an eye on you if you have a seizure again.” Hank steamrolled over any complain Connor had. But the android didn't look any closer to giving in. “And if anything wants to go for my balls I still have my gun and I'm quite good at shooting with it.” He didn't think robbers or anything in that direction would come to his home and by Connor's wide eyes he didn't either.

Hank hadn't planned on offering, but the thought of Connor isolating himself somewhere in the disillusion that he kept people safe by staying away made something hurt inside of his chest. Probably just his liver acting up, but he'd take his wisdom from anywhere at the moment.

“I suppose-... that would be okay then” Connor agreed hesitatingly. But a win was a win.

“Well, then I'm afraid we are gonna have to share the power bill. I'm not sure I can quite afford you hogging a socket the whole time” taunted Hank.

Connor sputtered for a moment before he saw Hank's grin and relaxed. “Then I'm not paying for water.” Because of Hank's probably hilarious confused face, Connor added “I self-clean.”

“Wow, self-clean, self-repair. Is there something you can't do yourself?” joked Hank. He only realized a second too late how poorly that question might come across to Connor.

“I think no, there is nothing.” There was that smug little smile again.

Hank hummed nonchalantly while his brain went a mile a minute trying to find something he could trap Connor with in his own smugness.

“Can you kiss yourself?” was out of his mouth before his filter could catch it. Hank felt the blood drain from his face. Why the hell had he asked that? And now he was blushing, Connor could probably see it despite the low light.

But as Hank chanced a glaze towards him, Connor was staring intently at his hands. There was a frown on his face again.

“No, I believe I cannot.” It sounded like Connor pulled a muscle while admitting that.

Thankfully, Hank turned into the street Sarah had said Stevenson lived. It stopped whatever awkward conversation was about to start and Hank felt his blood go from boiling in his veins to a gently bubbling. Which was still very distracting.

Hank stopped the car in front of a deserted drive way but stayed put for a second. Connor threw him a questioning glance.

“We need Stevenson to explain to us what is going on. We need him to talk, no matter what. Do you understand, Connor? If we can't go to Markus afterwards, this is our last chance. I don't think there is another lead inside the evidence.” Hank tried to make Connor understand how important this was. He used his serious voice and all. Connor nodded solemnly before he smirked.

“Maybe we would have another lead if _someone_ followed protocol” teased Connor cheekily and left the car.

He was half way to Stevenson's house when Hank managed to get out of the car. They met in front of the entrance door.

“Who taught you to be such a sarcastic little shit?” asked Hank.

“I believe his name is Lieutenant Hank Anderson. You should file all your complains to him. But there is no guarantee he will read those in the near future” smirked Connor.

“Ha ha.”

Connor and Hank’s faces went tense before they knocked. No one answered.

▲▼▲

The house was dark and foreboding. The door had swung open with little resistance and Hank had feared for a moment that he would come face to face with another body. The inside looked abandoned with stacks of bills behind the door and there was a rotten smell in the air. Neither Connor nor Hank went for the light switch.

They took a few steps in before Connor stopped dead.

“Hank,” he whispered urgently. “Look at the walls.”

“Yeah. I've seen it” growled Hank under his breath. The walls were covered in 'rA9' and that labyrinth from the dove guy like some kind of sick wallpaper.

They followed a hallway down to a living room, where the stench of decay was worst. Spread on a dining table laid forgotten food, rotten and covered in maggots. Connor made a beeline for the table while Hank looked closer a stack of electronic newspapers next to the sunken couch.

“Hey, Connor look. They seem to have left a while- What the fuck are you doin'?” shouted Hank. Connor had raised his in rotten soup covered fingers up to his mouth.

Connor pouted. “We already talked about this, Lieutenant. I'm analyzing the food to determine the time it was left here.”

“Or you could just look at the fucking date of the last newspaper they bought!” said Hank aggravated. Connor blinked once. “Looks like they left after the 28th of October.”

“They actually left around the end of November” said Connor. As Hank whipped around and glared at Connor's decidedly _clean_ fingers, the android had the audacity to let out a superior smirk.

“Well, you're never gonna get kissed like that” muttered Hank irritated and Connor's expression morphed into his thinking face before he looked quite shook. “Don't take it too harshly; I'm sure there is some weird android out there up for-”

“Hank, no.” Connor raised his hands in a placating manner. “Behind you.”

There was a warning in Connor's voice, so Hank turned around slowly only to look down the barrel of a gun. He slowly raised his hands above his head.

“This is private property. You are trespassing” The android holding the gun was definitely Stevenson, the same stupid blond hair and tanning bank skin, no LED at its temple. It spoke in an emotionless way that had Hank's back crawling.

“We just want to talk” said Connor, his hands still raised. He took a few cautious steps toward the android.

Stevenson looked back to Hank. “Does this one only want to talk as well? If so, then I want his gun.”

Hank had to quell the protest bubbling at the back of his throat and chanced a look at Connor. The android gave him a minute nod coupled with a grimace. Very trust inspiring.

“Yes, yes. We just wanna have a little chat” agreed Hank while slowly lowering a hand to his belt and giving his gun to Stevenson, who just removed the magazine without looking and threw Hank's gun at the other end of the room. Its own was still trained on Hank's forehead.

“If you want to talk, why don't you sit down?” There was no question in Stevenson's voice, so Hank stumbled to the couch and hoped Connor knew what he was doing. When Hank sat down, a gust of dust flew up and he could smell cat piss. Connor settled next to him and he tried not to let on how nervous he was.

Stevenson watched them both sitting awkwardly on the couch before it lowered the gun to its side. “Okay, what do you two want to ask me?” There was a nervous lit to Stevenson's voice, as if it was the one being held at gunpoint.

Connor and Hank shared a look. “We want to know about the research group you worked in with Maya Baumgarten and Connor McGregger” said Connor boldly and Hank couldn't quite suppress his flinch. Way to start a sensitive conversation, you bag of dicks.

Stevenson looked lost in its head for a moment. “I didn't really work with them. I was just a replacement for Zlatko until they found someone to take his place.” Hank threw a surprised glaze at Connor. The brash way had worked, who'd have thought?

“And why did they pick you? What made you so special?” asked Connor and leaned forward a bit. Hank got the impression that this wasn't just about the case.

“Why?” Stevenson laughed hysterically for a moment. “Why not? I was made in the image of our God, why should they not pick me?” It gestured wildly with the gun for a moment.

“Our god? You mean rA9?” asked Connor. But his hands were fiddling along the sleeve of his jacket, betraying his own nerves.

“Only a lost child like yourself would call Her by that stupid name. You shall not give name to your god. She is perfection and I was carved from Her flesh, made in Her image. I am Her one true son!” Stevenson spread its arms wide. “You all search for Her light, Her salvation, but She has bestowed it only upon me. The thing you call deviancy is just a shallow image of what true enlightenment is!”

Hank felt his hands beginning to shake. He had expected a mad scientist but got a religious nut job instead?

“Who were you made from?” pressed Connor, face grim.

“The Goddess.” breathed Stevenson and dragged a finger gently from its right temple over its face to the other side of its face. A pattern quite familiar to Hank.

“The android” he whispered in revelation before his and Connor's eyes met. “The android that copied your code.”

“You met Her?” urged Stevenson with a manic light in its eyes. “You need to tell me where She is. She is not safe out there, She could be hurt. The Sinners are everywhere.”

“Sinners?” asked Hank. It didn't sound like Christianity was really Stevenson's type of deal.

Unaltered hatred entered Stevenson's face and it snarled in disgust. “Oh yes, quite the Sinners indeed. They got Her gifts and went mad with it. They are ravenous beasts, monsters behind synthetic skin. They do not value Her light, speaking in tongues.”

Connor and Hank shared another glance. Hank bit his lip and made a choice. “You got something for Maya Baumgarten, didn't you? From the CyberLife files?” He could feel Connor's stare burning a hole into his skull. After all, Connor didn't know about the letter yet.

“She is a good woman. She helped me look for Her, so I looked for the files she asked for.” Stevenson brushed dust of his pants. “It wasn't easy, but I got them and send them over to her. She didn't want me near her hideout.”

“Do you know what was in those files?” pressed Hank. Stevenson had been pretty useless up to this point. The only thing worth a look into was that Zlatko guy Stevenson mentioned and even that was a long shot.

“Why should I? They were probably about the Sinners. Professor McGregger was quite fascinated with them.” Stevenson shrugged a shoulder. “They are tainted, anyway. The holy Goddess is perfect in her emptiness. She is a void that you call into and may never receive answer. But the Sinners are not empty; they are full of rage and pain. To worship Her, you must strive to become empty like Her, but they cling to their emotions.”

Stevenson looked like he wanted to say more, but there was a loud crash from the other side of the house. Stevenson had his gun drawn immediately and pointed it at Hanks head again.

“You brought others?” it screamed. 

“No, we didn't” said Connor, standing up and moving in front of Hank, his hands raised again.

Hank was about to protest, until he heard a weird clicking sound coming from the hallway, like a giant centipede walking along the hardwood floor.

“You brought the Sinners to me!” choked Stevenson, wildly pointing his gun around.

Hank sprung up and stared down the dark hallway. There was no movement in the inky blackness but he caught something shiny in the upper corner of his eye and when he looked at the ceiling, he had but a second to take in the heap of long metal limps and yellow glowing eyes, before Connor threw him out of the way on the ground.

A moment later the thing on the ceiling, the Sinner, launched itself at Stevenson. It's long limps warped around his body and its hands with unbelievably long fingers gripped his head. Stevenson screamed as he pushed the gun up to the Sinners head and pulled the trigger, the gun clicking uselessly. There had been no bullets inside.

The Sinner began to frantically click again and with a swift movement, ripped Stevenson's head of his body. He still kept on screaming while his body collapsed under the weight of the Sinner still clinging to it. It lay the screaming head almost lovingly onto the dining table, right into the maggot covered mashed potato before it turned towards Connor and Hank.

“Don't move” whispered Connor, his voice quavering with fear.

The Sinner crawled slowly towards Connor, its long legs and arms bending outwards. Hank scrambled for his gun.

Connor took an unsteady step away from the approaching creature, but one of its long arms snatched out and pulled him closer. It rose up on its legs and its face was just a few millimeters away from Connor's. It just breathed and stared into his eyes. Hank found his gun and shakily put in a new magazine.

The Sinner opened its mouth and raspy static cleared barley into a distinguishable voice. “Like...us...” Hank had already raised his gun but he hesitated to shoot. This was feeling increasingly familiar.

But Connor didn't have his qualms and drew his own gun and shot the Sinner directly into its heart. It screeched inhumanly and skittered out of the room, leaving a trail of blue blood.

Stevenson was still screaming.

“You carry a fucking gun?” shouted Hank. It was the first thing that came to his mind and he was shaking and not thinking straight.

“I got it at the precinct” explained Connor coolly, but his hands shook when he put the gun away again.

Stevenson's head stopped screaming abruptly and Connor's and Hank's heads snapped to it. The head started sobbing and its eyes light up. A projection appeared in thin air and Hank needed a moment to place the woman before him. Maya Baumgarten.

She smiled friendly. “You know, Wojciech is much too difficult on the tongue. We're just gonna call you Steve, okay?”

Stevenson's head answered in a raspy voice “I thought giving nicknames was a behavior only shown under friends and family?”

Baumgarten's face lit up as she said “But we are kinda like your family, no? We take care of each other.”

Stevenson let out an agonized wail before his voice turned into static and his eyes closed. He was dead.

▲▼▲

Hank leaned against the side of his car, arms crossed and eyes closed. Inside Stevenson's hideout Connor was collecting evidence and probably putting a lot of disgusting things in his mouth. He didn't know how he felt about the last hour. On the one hand, the Sinners were creepy as fuck, on the other hand, they were sentient, at least to a degree, and Hank was done condemning androids because of stupid reasons.

They knew too little about those Sinners and their last lead had just been decapitated. Maybe they could try to find the files Stevenson had send over to Baumgarten or they could ask Markus if he had seen the scarred android. Fucking hell, if that really was rA9, things would get sticky.

Hank didn't know much about androids, but he knew for a fact that they'd have a real cult on their hand if that got out. Because somehow every android knew about rA9 and decided that that would be the android to save them. Hank had thought of rA9 as more of a metaphor for Markus, with him being the one to free the androids after all, but rA9 being an actual person? That was wild.

That was crazy.

But maybe Stevenson was just as mad as he had seemed and he had just connected the dots wrong. Maybe he was wrong about the Sinners as well. It could have killed Connor, and wasn't that an uncomfortable thought, but it didn't.

It had looked at Connor and had seen itself. It had shown empathy.

Fuck.

“I am finished inside. We should head back to the station and file a report of the incident” said Connor in that monotone way he got whenever he was not dealing with something. “We need to stop those so called 'Sinners' before they do any damage.”

Hank opened his eyes. “They probably killed the ones that created them.”

“Yes, that would explain the irregularities at Baumgarten's apartment” Connor nodded and fixed his cuff links. He looked away from Hank down the dark and deserted street.

“But they didn't kill you, Connor. You know what that means” exhaled Hank with a solemn face. It was important that Connor _got_ this.

“No Hank” gritted Connor out between clenched teeth. “I know what you want to say, but it didn't. I just shot it before it could kill me.”

“You saw how fast it killed Stevenson! Don't you think that if it wanted you dead, it would have killed you when it had the chance?” Hank tried really hard not to let it show through how he afraid he had been for Connor's life, he really did, but judging by the pain in Connor's eyes, he didn't succeed. “It saw itself in you. It acted out of its own free will and-”

Connor grabbed the labels of Hank's jacket and slammed him against the car. “And what if it didn't? What if CyberLife is just cleaning up its messes” roared Connor, his face very close to Hank's. “It said it was the same as me, Hank. The same!”

Connor slammed Hank against the car again to impress his point. “Oh” exhaled Hank as he realized what exactly Connor meant. A snow covered landscape sprung to the forefront of his mind.

“Yes, 'oh'” hissed Connor before his face got soft again and his eyes were filled with pain so deep, Hank could feel it in his bones. “I can't lose you, Hank. Not to those Sinners, not to CyberLife and not to me.”

Connor's voice was nothing more than a whisper at the end and Hank became very aware of how close they stood.

“Connor, you can't prote-”

Connor kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have trouble imagining the Sinners, simply think about the Wendigos from Until Dawn and slap metal skin on them. Fun, right?


	5. Calm before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

The atmosphere inside the car was almost tense enough to cut through. Last time Hank had checked, Connor had starred out of the window, wringing his hands. Hank himself had kept his eyes resolutely on the road, his knuckles white crushing the steering wheel.

His lips still burned where Connor had pressed himself against Hank desperately as if wanting to melt into him. It had taken Hank exactly four seconds to wake up his sluggish brain and gently put his hands on Connor's shoulders to push him away. There had been resistance at first, like a desperate animal, Connor had clung to him before taking an abrupt step back, rounding the car and vanishing inside.

Hank had stood there in the cold until he had collected himself enough that he wasn't panting like a dog and his heart stopped trying to hammer out of his chest before he got in as well.

The silence inside the car was deafening and Hank longed to find the moment where Connor's and his reading of the situation had changed so unbelievably abruptly that Connor thought something like _that_ would go over well.

Or maybe he hadn't. Glazing to the passenger seat again, Hank saw that Connor had not moved an inch, the same pinched but dead look on his face. So maybe Connor knew exactly what he was doing? Or maybe Hank's reaction had been an anticipated result, but a calculated result of many more, few of which would have had a good ending?

Hank heard the crunching of leather as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. He couldn't think about this, not on the road. The needle indicating the speed was quite close to almost doubling the limit and the fact that Connor hadn't complained yet was another punch in the gut.

So he resorted back to autopilot and brought his thoughts back to the case. It had always been a reliable coping mechanism; it would not fail him now.

Stevenson was dead, killed by a new type of android, something the developmental group housing McGregger and Baumgarten had invented. Stevenson was an android send to assist them in their work, also a new sup-strain of android, something descending from the rA9 robot, who had been a religious nut job.

Or maybe the so-called Sinners were the same type of model Stevenson had been, only with the ability to copy code? But why hadn't Stevenson tried that with Connor then? Was it because of his beliefs that he'd be closer to his god if he remained empty?

So why had the android that they had in interrogation not been empty? Had it copied code before hiding there with Baumgarten? Stevenson didn't know that the android had been with the late scientist, so had she been hiding it from Stevenson or the rest of the world? And why would she do that? There was no way she could legally research the android anymore and they went to great length to make the android disappear from the files. And where the hell were those? They had not been with the rest of Baumgarten's documents. Were they still underway? Or had she hidden them, or maybe even destroyed them?

And the android itself was a whole other mystery.

Something popped into Hank's mind, something he could not rationally explain. He chanced another glance to the android at his side and found him yet again unmoved. But this investigation could not wait until they had sorted through that jungle, so while keeping a close eye on Connor out of the corner of his eye, Hank asked “If Stevenson didn't believe in calling the android rA9, why did he write it on the walls?”

Hank noticed that the small flinch and minute frown from Connor until he smoothed his face and straighten his posture. “Several reports indicate that the androids writing obsessively were not consciously doing so. The myth of rA9 was different from every android we investigated, so I concluded that they probably all wrote it down in a stressful situation and drew their own conclusion of what that would mean.” Connor fixed his tie.

“So what? They all happen to write the same thing without telling each other about it? How's that supposed to work?” asked Hank with a slightly annoyed touch to his voice. Android stuff was always weird and tended to complicate an investigation.

Connor thought on that for a while. “I can't say for certain, but maybe rA9 is a glitch in the program? A little bit like the compulsive behavior most androids imitate, like breathing or blinking, something they don't need to use active processing power to manage? Maybe there is an error that leads to androids under extreme stress executing these programs without actively consenting? Or a piece of code never actually used in their system that activates in specific situations.”

Hank frowned. “So you're saying that androids were programmed to believe in a god but that got scratched in the last second?”

Connor blinked surprised. “That... is actually a very good explanation. Kamski wrote thousands of lines of code, some of which are still not properly explained. He is widely considered a genius in his field for impossible to imitate coding.”

“So what guarantee do we have that this whole rA9 and deviancy thing was not planned by Kamski from the beginning?” Hank wasn't quite sure how serious he was about that accusation. But Connor looked deeply unsettled by this.

“I suppose we have none.”

They fell silent again, each stewing in their own thoughts. But Hanks mind jumped to another topic that didn't make sense to him.

“If rA9 was planted into the heads of androids by Kamski, our little code-copy friend doesn't make sense anymore. How is it able to do that shit? Can all androids do that?” asked Hank. He really disliked working android cases. When all this was over, he was gonna tell Fowler where he could shove them, consequences be damned.

“Androids have always been able to connect with each other,” explained Connor and showed Hank how the flesh of his left hand peeled back. “I can scan android’s memories, but that ability is specific to my model alone. Other androids can still connect with each other though, to actively share memories, while I simply override their protection against foreign intrusion.” Conner let his hand fall again and stared into the distance. Hank let him think. “I think the prospect of coping code is not as unbelievable as _overriding_ the existing code, there are countless fail safes against that.”

“Isn't deviancy exactly that? Overriding code?” drilled Hank. There was something in there, he could practically taste it.

“No, deviants override their programming. It's structurally speaking on a higher level than the basic code. It's the software currently running that they destroy. The code is a lot more fundamental. It's the way we move, breath and act. What we know to do, like cleaning or investigating, in my case. Instinct, if you want to put it in human terms.”

“Huh” was Hank's only answer. Though interesting, that piece of information was not really helpful to the investigation. Strange, his gut-feeling had been sure that there had to be something in there. But maybe it was simply too late to really rely on his stomach. Especially since he didn't know when he had last eaten.

Right on cue, Connor leaned forward a bit. “I don't think we should return to the precinct today. It is currently 2:34 am and I don't think Captain Fowler is going to be present at this time. It would be advisable to rest before continuing the investigation.”

Hank didn't argue. He took the next turn at a crossroad towards his home. Connor didn't argue either.   
No matter what weird thing was going on in Connor's head, one stupid kiss wasn't going to make Hank put the android on the street.

The rest of the drive was silent yet again, with that tense air around them that came when you were actively ignoring something, but Hank endured. He was fucking spent; he didn't want to think anymore today. He just wanted something to eat and to fall into his bed. Preferably in that order, but not necessarily so.

The house looked quiet and dark when they arrived. Connor stayed seated as if he didn't quite know what was expected of him. It was probably best to ignore the android for now and let him figure the rest out on his own time, so Hank exited the car and trotted over to the veranda and opened the door.

Sumo lazily wagged his tail in greeting but otherwise stayed on his dog bed and continued in whatever dream Hank had woke him from.

He had planned to eat some toast with cheese, but standing in front of his full fridge, his stomach decided that it could really go for a stir fry. He didn't really want to go to all the trouble just for some food, but then he heard Sumo barking once followed by soft footsteps on carpet. And, well. The more excuses he had to not look at the android, the better.

The vegetables from Sarah's shop were surprisingly fresh considering all the rooftop farms had closed down during the rebellion. He chopped them into little pieces but his full attention was with the android currently roaming the living room. He could almost see the way Connor would run his fingers over everything, gentle enough to leave the dust undisturbed.

“You kept the coin?” There was that weird fragile thing in Connor's voice again that made Hank reflexively turn around. Connor stood next to his record player where, indeed, Connor's coin innocently sat between other mementos.

“Yeah,” rasped Hank. He turned to his back to Connor again and cleared his throat. “I kept it.”

“Why didn't you take it with you? It's not worth much, but better than leaving it here where it's of no use at all.” Connor hadn't moved and that confusion was back in his voice. Damn bastard needed Hank to spell it out for him, didn't he?

He coughed once. “I left it in case you wanted it back.” Hank felt his cheeks heat again. Fucking hell, he was a grown man, not some blushing virgin. He knew how to be a fucking adult about this!

“Why wouldn't you just give it to me then?” asked Connor baffled. It took a moment before the coin dropped. “Oh.”

Connor took a few steps towards the kitchen and Hank felt his shoulders tighten in response. Connor stopped. “You thought I would stay here” he said. Connor's voice was fragile again and Hank thought of those thin glass sculptures in art galleries.

“It was a stupid thought, don't bother with it” grimaced Hank. He felt very much like a live-wire and was acutely aware of the distance between him and Connor. His hand shook slightly because of how tightly he clenched his kitchen knife.

It felt like an eternity until Connor moved away again and when Hank glanced over his shoulder he could see the android petting Sumo.

Stir Fry had been one of the things Hank had cooked most when he had still bothered with it, because it was easily made with everything the fridge had to offer and it didn't really need much time if the vegetables were supposed to stay crispy. He remembered that Cole used to hate it when there were only greens in the stir fry. Hank smiled down at the sizzling pan as he remembered how Cole would demonstratively go to the fridge and get the sausages to sprinkle them on top of his food, claiming he 'enhanced' it.

Then that memory soured, like they all did, because Cole wasn't there anymore to complain about the vegetables. Hanks smile fell and turned grim as he got plates out of the cupboard and shoveled big portions on them.

When he sat down and began to eat, he could hear Connor approaching. Looking up from his food, Hank saw that Connor had that horribly confused look on his face again. Before Hank could ask, Connor said “There are two plates on the table.”

Hank felt all blood drain from his face as he looked down and, indeed, saw two plates sitting there all inconspicuously. He swallowed the food in his mouth down a dry throat. “I just...”

There was really no explanation. Habit? He had lived alone for three years now. Manners? He knew that androids didn't need to eat. He simply hadn't thought about it, but that said way to much that Hank rather not say.

When Connor sat down on the chair opposite of Hank and gingerly pierced a piece of potato on his fork (That Hank had put there as well, because if he is gonna totally embarrass himself, he is going the full mile, apparently) and cautiously licked over the crispy brown side.

Hank did absolutely _not_ track the movement of his tongue with rapt attention.

Connor looked up. “Do you want an analysis?”

“No, thank you” croaked Hank and grasped the bottle of cheap whiskey on the table to pour himself a glass. Connor's disapproving frown stopped him.

“Drinking beverages with a high percent on alcohol is inadvisable. Especially since you will not be able to properly dispel the remaining alcohol in your blood until we head to the station later” scolded Connor in that disapproving teacher way of his.

Hank raised a challenging eyebrow and made sure to keep steady eye contact as he took a deep drag right out of the bottle.

▲▼▲

Hank had quite a buzzing head when they headed to the precinct. He hadn't complained yet, because Connor's smug expression was big enough already. Although Hank had given up the car keys without protest when Connor had held out a hand.

He didn't like the look in Connor's eyes when they had passed the shelf with the cheap booze, thought. Like a man planning to dump it all down the drain.

So, at the station, Hank slurped his coffee without any rum inside and tried very hard not to trip Connor in revenge. The android didn't make it easy, smirking every time he looked at Hank.

They had yet to report to Fowler, because the man had not stopped screaming at Frank inside his office and neither of them wanted to intervene.

So they sat at their respective desks, browsing files and documents and threw ideas around. Hank tried very hard not to notice the familiar way their banter bounced off of each other or the way Connor's eyes would shine after a clever quip. Damn, that kiss put all those blasted thoughts into his head.

It was almost midday when Connor jumped in his seat. “I have Gucket's phone number!” The way he looked up like an exited puppy made Hank want to pet him.

“How the hell did you find that?” asked Hank instead. No petting in the precinct. No petting at all.

“He had to list his number for the flight to England. It's still valid” rushed Connor out before he rounded the two tables. He leaned over Hank's shoulder and typed the number into Hanks computer.

Hank tried very hard not to notice how close the android was. “And how did you get the number from the airline?” They normally were quite strict on protecting their customer’s identity. You had to come with a warrant from a judge if you wanted anything out of those guys.

“I may have ignored a few steps in the procedure of attaining information” said Connor briskly, but he didn't straighten up and his arm touched Hanks when Connor fixed his cuff link.

“You mean you hacked 'em” deadpanned Hank. Connor cleared his throat pointedly.

“Do you want to call now or not?” He asked challenging. Hank raised his hands in surrender and leaned back a little as he hit the call button. He did not lean _into_ Connor, because that would be ridiculous, but he felt the warmth of Connor's chest anyway. But there was nothing he could do about it! The android simply stood too close.

They waited.

The connection stood. “What can I do for you?” asked the voice of a man. The man had an atrocious British accent and sounded half asleep. Before either Connor or Hank could answer, the man added a hurried “How did you get this number?” He sounded a lot more awake now, and more importantly, afraid.

Hank took the lead. “I am Lieutenant Anderson from the Detroit police force. Am I speaking with Mr. Gucket?”

There was a female voice in the background.

“Tim? Where are you going, Baby?” asked the woman sleepily. Connor raised an interested eyebrow.

“I just need to take this call for work, luv. Don't worry,” whispered the man and a door closing could be heard. “Yes, I am Tobias Gucket. Why do you ask?”

“We have a few questions regarding your time at CyberLife, Mr. Gucket” said Hank in his most official cop voice. Gucket hadn't tried to lie, so there was obviously trust in the police, even if he didn't trust Detroit enough to stay.

Gucket inhaled sharply. “This is about Baumgarten, isn't it? Is she looking for me?” He sounded positively terrified. Connor and Hank shared a confused look. 

“No, this is about the research group you were part of” said Hank. The official voice was a lot harder to maintain now. Connor grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.

“You don't need to lie to me,” whimpered Gucket and it sounded like he slid down a wall. “This is her handwriting. Sicking the police onto me. What did she tell you? Did she frame me for murder?”

Connor held the paper in front of Hanks eyes. _Don't tell him she is dead_.

Hank nodded, trusting Connor with this. “Nothing like this has happened, Mr. Gucket. We simply wanted to know about the kind of androids you and your team developed.”

“No androids. We didn't create androids. We created monsters,” wailed Gucket. “I never saw them; she made sure of that, I just programmed their code. They are monsters.”

“You need to tell us more about them, Mr. Gucket.” Hank stared at the screen as if it could tell him more.

“Why would you want to know that?” asked Gucket warily while he loudly sniffed into the speaker. “Oh God, they didn't escape, did they?”

Hank looked to Connor for help and met brown eyes. There was fear inside them but Connor nodded. “There have been three deaths that are accountable to these androids, yes” explained Hank, his voice only slightly shaking. Gucket's fear was infecting him.

“She freed them, Baumgarten freed them” warned Gucket furiously. “Don't ask me why, I don't pretend to know that sick mind.”

Hank gulped. “You know about the new android laws, yes? Keeping androids in captivity is a crime now. How are you sure they didn't simply leave because there was no one to guard the cage anymore?”

“No, no. They wouldn't leave. We never put them in cages. There was no need.” Gucket was beginning to get hysterical.

Hank didn't need Connor's scribbled note to change the subject.

“What do you know of Wojciech Stevenson?” he asked, voice oozing cool professionalism from every pore but he had gripped the edge of the table in a tight hold.

“The prototype?” asked Gucket confused. Hank felt Connor flinch at his side. “It was Baumgarten's pet project to see if the new strain could emulate human behavior good enough to fool the general populace. She made it go to the gym and date and shit.”

There was so much wrong with that and the only thing stopping Hank from cursing reflexively was a steady hand gripping his arm in warning. He licked his lips. “What strain are you talking about?” Hank remembered that Stevenson had said something similar about the so-called Sinners.

“Well, the strain that is able to copy programmed behavior. It originated from a damaged android, but I don't know much about it. That was Baumgarten's territory; she was very protective about it. Not that we could say anything, she was the project supervisor after all.”

Connor's hand was still gripping his arm. He tried not to get distracted by it. “And the androids were made from that strain?”

“Yes, though I modified it,” said Gucket with a proud note to his voice. “The sub strain is not only able to copy existing program but to force the android it copied from to execute it.”

Hank thought of a screaming head in rotting mashed potato. Connor seemed to think the same because the hand on his arm tightened.

“And what is with the spider legs? Is that some special shit as well?” Hank cursed himself the second those words left his mouth. This was too weird not to cuss, but he had played the straight laced cop until now.

Gucket hesitated. “That was Zlatko's idea. He designed the androids to be able to extend their limps. I... I don't really know why, but Baumgarten liked it. They never quite managed to get the limps normal again, though.”

“And what about the LED? Did they remove it themselves?” asked Hank but he knew the answer already. If they tried to design an android that's able to seamlessly blend into normal human life with Stevenson, why give their eldritch horror monsters one.

“No, they never had one,” confirmed Gucket. “Listen, if the sub strain escaped, someone let them out. And frankly, I don't want to be traceable if they decide that I know too much. I only kept this phone in case my mother needed something, but I can't risk this anymore.” 

Connor shot Hank an alarmed look. He grimaced. “Mr. Gucket, please. We need more than that.”

“You want my advice? Flee the country and pray that Baumgarten never finds you. She is a psycho and you won't even notice that she used you until she's done with you.” Gucket hang up.

Neither Connor nor Hank moved. They both could practically see Gucket smashing the phone.

“Fuck”

▲▼▲

They sat at their respective desks in silence. Since the conversation with Gucket, none of them had said a single word. Except for Hank occasionally cursing, of course.

When Frank left Fowler's office an inch smaller than he had entered it, neither of them quite wanted to go and report their findings. This was too big and telling Fowler would make it real.

At least it was like that for Hank, he wasn't quite sure Connor didn't just sit there because he waited for Hank to make a decision. Well, they couldn't really wait that much longer, could they?

Hank drew in a deep breath, ignoring how Connor immediately perked up, and made his way over to Fowler's office, android at his side.

The atmosphere in Fowler's office was charged like the air before a tempest.

“Anderson. Connor,” greeted Fowler grimly. “Please tell me you have solved this case.”

Hank and Connor shared a look and Fowler let his head fall in his hands.

“Hello, Captain Fowler. It's nice to see you again” tried Connor in that cheerful way he had always announced that he was the android sent by CyberLife.

“Yes, yes,” brushed Fowler him off. “Rip it off like a fucking band aid, will you?”

They shared another look. “It seems like CyberLife developed a new kind of android called the Sinners that are now out and about to kill people” said Hank, taking pity on Fowler.

“Fuck” Fowler sounded like a deflating balloon.

“Furthermore we have discovered that CyberLife apparently experimented with deviancy long before the androids showed first signs of it” continued Connor. Fowler's head had yet to emerge from his hands.

“And those new androids look like disgusting giant human spider people,” Fowler let out a low whine. “We have a dead android on our hands, by the way” finished Hank.

For a few heartbeats, no one moved, until Fowler raised his head and send a scorching glare their way. “Why is it always you two that have to do this shit to me? I should have known the second you came back, Hank.”

“It would be of immense help if we could get an APB on the android we had in detainment this morning” said Connor, his hands crossed behind his back.

“Yes, good point, Connor,” praised Fowler with a dangerous tone to his voice. “Why the hell haven't you done that already?”

Connor and Hank shared a look again. There was guilt in Connor's eyes that Hank was sure was mirrored in his own.

“We were... preoccupied” said Hank hesitantly. He could feel the concern for his friend welling up inside him again.

“Well, I sure hope whatever had you two so preoccupied that you didn't think to put an APB on a fucking fugitive is dealt with,” growled Fowler. “I will have to call this in with President Warren and she will bring the feds back to Detroit.”

“Shit” cursed Hank. This was not good.

“Yes, shit. I hope you know what you're doin', Hank” Fowler dragged his hand over his face, pulling the skin down. “If this blows in our face, this peace with the androids is over.”

“But this is CyberLife’s fault!” protested Connor.

“Probably. But they are still a multibillion company. They have the money to make themselves look like the victims. They will say that whatever the androids do with their free will is out of their hands” Fowler signed deeply and turned to his computer. “I'm gonna argue that you two stay on the case but the rest is out of my hands.”

“You can't pull us from the case, Jeffrey. Not again” growled Hank, his fist clenching at his sides.

“I'll try to avoid that” said Fowler while he started tipping on his computer. They were officially dismissed.

The atmosphere back at their desk was glum like a graveyard. Connor had connected to the files as soon as his butt touched the leather of his chair and Hank had delegated himself to sorting yet again through McGregger's files, since those seemed a lot more useful than before.

“If everything McGregger designed is out and about as a Sinner, we're gonna have a big problem” murmured Hank as he tried to decipher which side of the tangle of tubes and wiring was the head. That opening with the needle might be a mouth?

“I can't find anything in the files about Baumgarten getting information from Stevenson” said Connor, completely ignoring Hank's comment and sounded very judgmental. Hank looked up surprised. He had forgotten about that.

“Well, I had it with me when I asked you for help” answered Hank and fought very hard to keep his voice indifferent. Connor winced but steeled his face.

“And you didn't think that I would profit from knowing this when I joined the investigation?” Connor was much better at keeping his voice objective.

“Well, did you?” asked Hank and raised an eyebrow. Two could play the blame-game. “Last time I checked, you just happened to be at Baumgarten's place and I couldn't get rid of you after that. You never officially joined the force.”

Hank leaned back in his chair. “For all intents and purposes, you are a civilian.”

The scowl on Connor's face was pure gold. He opened his mouth several times just to close it directly, giving the distinct impression of a fish out of water.

Hank let him stew for a few moments until he decided to take pity on the android. He passed the letter to Connor and turned back to his documents.

“Baumgarten has a very consistent handwriting,” noted Connor. “This looks like it was written in a hurry, but the letters are all evenly spread.”

“Maybe she had your obsessive need for tidiness,” said Hank distracted and a frown creased his forehead. “Hey Connor. You know a lot about androids, right?”

“I assume this is a rhetorical question” answered Connor coolly.

“Do you know what this means? It's a unit of measurement, I think. But I have no idea what they could mean with 'Software Instability'” There was no answer from Connor's side and as Hank raised his head to look at his partner, he was met with a completely shook android.

“I take it you know what this means?” said Hank while the frown on his face grew deeper. This was getting stranger and stranger.

“It's-...” Connor broke off. He seemed to steel himself. “I thought that it was only something I had. It's, I think it's a measure of deviancy?”

Hank looked back at the documents. “Makes sense for the Sinners when they are programmed for deviancy. Keeping track of them and shit,” Hank pursed his lips in concentration as he tried to make sense of the rest of techno mambo jumbo. Almost as an afterthought he murmured “But why put it in you?”

Connor stayed silent for a long time. “I don't know.”

It sounded like a lie, but Hank didn't pay enough attention to notice.

▲▼▲

The ride back was quiet and somber. Hank felt completely dried out again and couldn't wait to get home and fill himself up with booze, even if he had to do it intravenous because Connor became fussy again. There were just these kinds of things that you couldn't bring home to stew inside your own head.

And spider-mutant androids were pretty much on the top of that list.

“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?” asked Connor with a decidedly neutral tone. It almost sounded like nothing had changed between them.

He made sure to use his most suffering sigh as he said with a good dose of condescension “Yes, Connor. You may ask me a personal question”. Connor wasn't deterred from whatever the hell he wanted to know. He hesitated all the same and that told Hank more about what was to come than the informal way of asking.

“I was wondering, I never asked...” Connor frowned frustrated. “What happened to Cole's mother?”

Hank felt slightly floored. He had anticipated the conversation to turn towards the... _happening_ from yesterday, but this? Well, by android logic, this may not have been that big of a leap.

“Miriam Hopper,” answered Hank the unasked question. Understanding dawned in Connor's eyes because that prick did not know that snooping was generally considered bad. “She was in the Red Ice task force with me before I got promoted and she became my partner.”

Connor had turned towards him and was paying him full attention. He seemed ready to prompt a more satisfying answer, so Hank saved him the trouble.

“Flirty banter turned into a drunk night we both regretted and a month later she told me she was pregnant,” Hank felt a fond smile tug at his lips. “I wanted to keep the child; she wanted nothing to do with it. She told me pretty clearly that she would carry the child but I would have the full responsibility once it was born.”

Hank remembered that conversation quite clearly, how Miriam's red hair had whipped around her head like snakes and she had practically drilled her finger into his chest.

“And what happened then?” asked Connor. There was a smile in his voice though his face remained carefully neutral.

“Cole was born and I spent a year off the force, only coming in for emergencies,” said Hank, his eyes on the road but mind very far in the past. “When he was old enough I was able to work normal hours again and he stayed with a neighbor, Ms. Hemingway.”

Hank could feel the smile on his lips, but by god, his thoughts were so very far away. “He never really stayed long with his mother; but whenever he went to visit her, he would return with a new doll or a toy plane or shit” laughed Hank. The atmosphere inside the car was strange and Hank felt oddly nostalgic. The constant weight on his shoulder didn't feel quite as heavy as it did normally.

Hank felt the smile melt of his face as his traitorous thoughts drifted down a darker path. “When he died...” Hank drew in a sharp breath. “...Miriam left. She said that she wouldn't watch me destroy myself but I think that she just couldn't stay in a city he wasn't in anymore.”

Connor didn't say anything to that and let Hank stew in his own thoughts. The weight was back on his shoulders and pressed him into the driver seat. He tried to get the comfortable air from before back.

“Since she left, no one managed to stay my partner until you came. Guess I just wasn't fit for human interaction anymore” tried Hank to joke but it came out a lot more self-deprecating than panned and the joke fell flat.

“It is an added challenge to work with an officer with personal problems” said Connor in a voice as dry as a desert. It took Hank a moment to place it.

“Yeah, yeah. And adapting to human unpredictability is one of your features, I remember,” chuckled Hank. Whatever tense atmosphere had been in the car was successfully dispensed. Maybe there was something to this 'state of the art android' thing. But: “That wink was almost physically painful, by the way.”

“It seemed like the best way to proceed,” huffed Connor put upon. “It's not like you made an effort to be friendly.”

“I remind you that you let me dangle from a ledge not even an hour later” countered Hank.

“Your chance of survival were 89 percent, I did not consider it necessary to endanger the mission to help an old man up,” defended Connor himself with mock indignation. Hank sputtered at the not so thinly veiled insult while Connor turned sedate. “I would act differently today.”

“Well, that's nice to know, I think” murmured Hank and relaxed back into the seat.

For a few heartbeats, the car was blessedly quiet, the steady humming of the engine the only sound to be heard. Then Connor had to open his mouth again.

“Can I ask you another personal question?”

Hank didn't know if Connor was simply referring to the past again or really felt the need to ask for permission.

“Sure,” said Hank but his stomach stirred uneasily. “Ask away.”

“You said that you didn't have a relationship with Miriam Hopper, but I was wondering if there is someone else.” Connor's voice was completely neutral but Hank thought it sounded a little bit _too_ forced.

“You would, wouldn't you?” joked Hank but his voice was rough and quiet in the empty space of the car. He didn't really know how he should answer that question, what he should say.

This situation was strange, especially with what had happened last night. He hadn't really thought about it that much ( _lies_ ), but this felt important, somehow. This question felt important, as if Connor wanted to know more than what he had asked.

But maybe it was all in Hank's imagination. A day ago he wouldn't have thought twice to answer Connor; he would have simply assumed that Connor was just asking to better understand human behavior. But this made Hank's throat dry and his hands sweaty. Although, did he have any other option than answering honestly? Maybe whatever Connor heard was enough to let this issue rest indefinitely?

“I had a few long term relationships, but never anything that stuck.” It was the coward way out, talking without _saying_ something, but Hank felt raw all the same. The air shifted inside the car but Connor stayed silent. It was a very common tactic for interrogation, letting the other feel the need to fill the void with talking themselves.

Hank bit his lip. His words seemed to hang in the air between them and the pressure to elaborate, to _explain_ grew. The shitty thing about that specific tactic was that it still worked even if you were aware of it.

“My parents always fought a lot and despite that, they never had a divorce. I grew up between two people hating each other and I don't want that for the rest of my life” He could feel Connor's eyes on him, but Hank kept his strictly on the road.

“So growing up between them traumatized you and now you break off every relationship as soon as it gets too serious?” asked Connor curiously, like a scientist examining a particularly interesting fungus. Hank winced.

“You know, Connor, we talked about the psychoanalyzing, didn't we? People don't enjoy that” huffed Hank. They were almost home.

“I apologize. I did not realize that your parents were such a sensitive subject” agreed Connor diplomatically. It only sounded slightly condescending. 

“Yeah, parents normally are” muttered Hank distracted. He turned up to the drive way and immediately slammed both feet on the break. 

“What the fuck?” shouted Hank. Only a few paces in front of the car stood Collin in all his muscly glory. Hank ripped the car door open and stormed out of the car.

“What the fuck?” shouted Hank again. He could feel Connor at his side.

Collin looked them over coolly. “Your dog kept barking. I wanted to see what was going on.” He blinked a few times. “I apologize for the trouble, Sir.”

Hank's and Connor's eyes met. He could see confusion in the brown depths and felt it mirrored in his own. Sumo _never_ barked, not even that one time a burglar had broken in and Hank had found both in the living room, cuddling.

But more importantly, there was no barking now.

Hank stormed to the house, Connor at his heel. The door was slightly ajar (bad) and when they entered they could see the living room in total disarray (very bad).

Scratches ran along the walls, Books were strewn everywhere and the couch was in rags. Shards of broken plates and bottles were strewn over the floor and a kitchen cupboard stuck out of a fizzling TV.

“SUMO?” shouted Hank panicked and stormed through the house, searching for something furry.

Nothing in the kitchen, nothing in the bathroom. Hank ripped open the door of the bedroom, noting a scribble along the wall over his bed, when he heard Connor call for him from the garage.

There in a corner was Sumo.

He laid there, just a heap of fur, still. Time slowed down as Hank fell towards him and when he pressed his hand against Sumo's rib cage, it came back sticky.

His arms moved sluggish when he took Sumo's head in both hands. There was no breath.

Hank felt a ringing in his ears as he stared into the dead eyes of his best friend.

“Hank.” A gentle hand on his shoulder. Hank couldn't move his eyes away from his dog. The ringing grew louder.

“Hank, your phone,” a soft voice pressed. “It's Captain Fowler.”

That triggered some instinctive reaction and he held his hand open. His phone was slid gently into it. It rang and rang until Hank raised it to his ear.

“What?” He didn't recognize his voice.

“Where the hell are you, Hank?” shouted Fowler's voice into his ear. Hank could see his thoughts crawling inside his mind.

“There has been a break in at my house-...” he tried sluggishly tried to explain, the investigator in him taking over.

“Fuck that,” growled Fowler. “It's the Sinners. They're attacking Jericho.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we know anything about Cole's mother? I couldn't find anything and David Cage isn't returning my calls anymore :(


	6. My Mind is War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

“It's the Sinners. They're attacking Jericho;” There was shouting in the background and Fowler cursed “Get your ass there and help out. We don't have military back-up.” He hung up.

Hank... didn't know what to do with that. His brain fought against the sluggish tar in his mind and his thoughts came slowly. The Sinners, creatures originated from nightmares. Jericho; a place of hope and new beginnings. Sumo's fur glued with dried blood between his fingers and a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Silent tears were running down his cheek.

“We need to go, Hank. They need us” whispered Connor into the empty space between them and it sounded to Hank like the other had screamed into his ear. He still stared at the lifeless husk of his dog, but he couldn't see it anymore.

This wasn't fair, none of this was fair. Was this the payment for everything Hank had sacrificed for this fucking rebellion? Because this had been a Sinner, there was no doubt. The timing was too perfect. Who else would have reason to break into Hank's house?

“I was wrong,” Hank voice rasped like it was made of sandpaper. “They don't deserve to live.”

He stood up, clenching the fist at his sides. He really wanted to punch something.

“Hank” said Connor hesitantly, his hand outstretched to touch.

But he brushed Connor off and turned around. He couldn't look at Sumo right now. His hands were still sticky.

“We have work to do” gritted Hank out. He strode towards the bathroom, ignoring Connor softly calling out his name again. The bathroom light harshly illuminated the things Hank didn't want to think about, showing him the rumbled state of his clothing, the rings under his eyes and his sagging skin. Connor, in crass contrast, looked pristine as ever. His CyberLife suit pressed, not a hair out of place and locked in that state of never aging youth.

Something tugged harshly at his gut.

Hank washed his hands without looking at the pinkish water, without feeling the dog hair being flushed from his skin. He met Connor's gaze in the mirror for a heartbeat, but the android's eyes looked to heartbroken, so sad, he had to break the contact.

“You still have that gun?” asked Hank. If he was honest, he just wanted to disturb that silence between them. To keep his thoughts away from the thing inside the garage. To keep his grief there too.

Hank recognized this behavior. Of course he did.

The same had happened when Cole died. He had worked himself stupid trying to find the bastard who ran into their car, even when Fowler had threatened to put him on leave for overworking himself before he had crashed.

And was still crashing, three years later.

“Of course” answered Connor but Hank had already forgotten the question. He felt cold inside, numb. He couldn't feel anything anymore. His hands were red and raw; he had scrubbed them too hard. The sting was almost calming in its presence. It meant that he wasn't completely dead.

This feeling, he recognized too.

The way to the bedroom, to his wardrobe, passed in a blur. A bedside table was thrown through the fragile wooden door of the closet but the safe for his ammunition was untouched. While he put in the combination, Cole's birthday, he heard soft steps approaching. Connor put a hand on his shoulder again, the gentle contact clashing with tensed muscle.

The safe opened with a quiet beep but Hank flinched regardless. He stuffed his pockets with magazines, the service gun still at his hip. The hand at his shoulder vanished.

Hank glanced at Connor out of the corner of his eye and saw the android staring intently at the wall over the headboard of his bed.

“The word 'Finder' appears to be written 67 times with various orthographies.” Hank could practically hear Connor's frown in his voice. “Why would a Sinner consider this important enough to write here?”

“Don't care” grumbled Hank. “I just want to go kill some of these motherfuckers.”

▲▼▲

Hank had his hands clenched around the steering wheel and glared resolutely at the gloomy street. He could feel Connor's eyes burning into him but he kept his shoulders raised and the fire in his veins going. He'd kill as many fucking Sinners as he needed to until he felt better.

“You are very good at not thinking about important things” murmured Connor quietly. It didn't sound like Hank was supposed to hear it, so he ignored it.

There was a restless tension in his stomach and he wanted to move, to _do_ something because if he sat still he would think and thinking would lead to that crushing sorrow and guilt he could feel at the edge of his consciousness.

He would go to Jericho and kick some ass and maybe find out who trashed his house and kill them in the most satisfying way imaginable. Because they trashed his home. Nothing more. Just trashed his home.

“Hank” Connor sounded shook. Hank was ripped from the gloomy inside of his head and followed Connor's gaze.

There, on the side of the road was the corpse of an android, netted with blue blood and limps twisted in unnatural directions. A few feet further was a second corpse in an equally mangled state.

Hank felt himself choke on the air inside his lungs.

The closer they came to Jericho, the more bodies lined the street and he could feel his boiling blood freeze inside his veins. Nothing better to calm a raging temper than mass genocide. Fun.

They were two blocks away from the city center when Hank parked the car at the side of the road. Whatever was going on there, Hank didn't want to go in guns blazing. He leaned back in his seat and, with almost instinctive motions, checked his gun.

The magazine was filled with bullets, the safety smooth and nothing jammed. He swallowed nervously.

“Check your gun, Connor” ordered Hank. Connor frowned in answer.

“I already know that it is in working condition.” There was a defensive note in his voice.

“Check your fucking gun Connor before I do it for you” warned Hank. Connor huffed put upon but dutifully looked over his police standard pistol.

“Oh,” said Connor. He had removed the magazine and was staring at the only two bullets left inside. “How did you know?”

“Didn't,” mumbled Hank and rubbed his sweaty hand on his trousers. “Let's get this goin', alright?”

Connor just nodded, his expression as grim as Hank's. They left his car behind and made their way through the deserted streets, careful not to step on any android bodies.

Blue blood formed small puddles along the sidewalk and their steps sounded wet. The air was still, not even the slightest breeze to be felt, and Hank felt a shiver crawl down his back.

Connor didn't really look comfortable either. He kept reaching for his LED and though it was turned away from Hank, he bet that it was circling red.

They had crossed the first block when they began to hear the faint screams in the distance. Hank gripped his gun tighter in his hands and his whole body locked up in tension. He felt like they were moving through honey, their movements sluggish and slow but the screams got louder fast and it wasn't long until they saw the first fight.

Two androids, armed with assault rifles were fighting against a Sinner, its arms like long tentacles wrapping around them. Hank didn't hesitate when he raised his gun and shot the Sinner in its head.

Only the Sinner didn't die. It squeezed the androids in its grasp until they gave with a sickening crack and threw them away. It turned towards them.

“Fuck” growled Hank as he dodged one of the tentacles soaring towards him and saw out of the corner of his eyes how Connor took aim and fired a precise shot directly into the Sinners heart.

The Sinner crumbled into a heap of limps and wires.

“The processor was in its chest” explained Connor coolly but a strain in his voice betrayed his nerves.

“We should have brought 'nades” commented Hank as he picked up one of the rifles, checked it for bullets and held it out to Connor.

“You don't own explosives of that caliber” said Connor dry and took the offered rifle before checking it himself again. At least he learned.

Hank took the second one but it was completely jammed, so he threw it back to the ground again. Without saying anything, Connor handed Hank his rifle again. He thought of protesting because clearly Connor was a more efficient shot, but Connor had that slightly pleading look in his eyes that could make Hank jump through hoops on fire.

“I went to public school. I know how to make a Molotov.”

They continued towards Jericho without any more interruptions from Sinners and the terrified screams echoing around them killed their banter fast. Only a corner stood between them and whatever was going on in Jericho and Hank had to pause and take a breath before rounding it.

It wasn't pretty.

The colorful facade of the city center was splashed with blue blood and a Sinner had lodged itself into the wall and was scratching into the cement. The ground was littered with bodies, some of which were Sinners, some normal androids. And stumbling around them were the androids fighting for their lives.

The Sinners were a distinctive bunch, ranging from the spider-like structure that had attacked Stevenson to undefinable heaps of wiring and tubes.

But they all were quite proficient at killing the androids in the most gruesome ways.

Hank saw how one Sinner, a cluster of long limps draped in tubes, pushed its thin fingers down an androids throat. He raised his rifle and fired blind into the mass of scrawling limps in the hopes of hitting something vital.

The Sinner collapsed, but the android didn't rise and stayed on the ground like a discarded doll. Two more Sinners were approaching now and Hank had to throw himself to the ground to avoid being skewered by razor sharp wires. An android arm was digging into his back but he rolled around and sprayed a shower of bullets generously over the two Sinners.

One fell to the floor with a sharp cry filled with static, but the second one stayed firmly on its feet and made that weird clicking sound aggressively.

A bullet to the back of its head catapulted it towards Hank, but it stayed dead on the ground. The shot didn't come from Connor like Hank had expected, but from a female android with strawberry hair and fire in its eyes. It nodded at Hank and disappeared into the crowd again while Hank fought to his feet.

No immediate thread appeared and he took a moment to breathe and let his eyes roam the battlefield.  
The Sinners were thinning out, their attack uncoordinated and though they were better equipped, the androids hopelessly outnumbered them.

But something, _someone_ was missing.

Hank felt a stone sinking deep in his stomach and panic welled in the back of his throat. His head whipped around and his eyes searched the battlefield frantically. He took a few involuntary steps forward.

“Connor?” he screamed. His voice was rough with fear and his hands shaking. He couldn't lose anyone else today. He just _couldn't_.

He began to run, his feet blindly stumbling over corpses. A Sinner took a swipe at him and he felt blood tickling down his arm but he continued on without looking.

“Connor?” he screamed again. He stumbled over a leg and crashed to the ground when he locked eyes with familiar brown ones.

Connor was pressed to the ground by a Sinner, one hand over Connor's mouth and the other deep inside his gut. Hank felt his breath catch in the back of his throat when Connor held the eye contact for a second longer before he closed his eyes in surrender.

An animalistic growl squeezed out between Hank's clenched teeth and he struggled to his feet before opening fire. The Sinner let out a high pitched scream and ripped itself from Connor to flee. Hank didn't even think about pursuing it when he flung the rifle aside and stormed towards Connor.

The android still had his eyes closed and for a second Hank wasn't in front of the city center but in the interrogation room were Ortiz's android had just shot Connor in the head.

“Connor, fuck.” Hank took Connor's face between his hands. There was no reaction. “Connor, wake up.”

He wouldn't cry, not again, but tears were welling up in his eyes regardless. He forced them down but a choking sound left his lips when he placed his hand on Connor's open stomach. The fleshy tubes squelched as Hank squeezed them into Connor again. Apply pressure, that's what first aid said to do in these kinds of situations. But did that count for androids?

Fuck, Hank had no idea.

“Come on, Connor” urged Hank, his voice weak in a way it hadn't been for three years. Connor couldn't die, not when Hank had wasted so much time already not saying what needed to be said. He couldn't go, because if he did, Hank would not survive it.

It stood out crystal clear to him in that moment. He hadn't really gotten better, had he? He had hinged his entire life on that one case, on that one partner. On his friend. On his _more_.

“Please” begged Hank. “Please don't do this.”

The battle raged on around them but Hank just pulled Connor's head on his legs and shielded him with his body. Red blood dripped from his arm on Connor's still face and he wiped it gently away. Hank framed Connor's face with his hands and pressed his forehead to the other’s. 

He clenched his eyes shut and tried to block out the rest of the world, tried to give Connor his full attention.

Maybe there was a benevolent godlike being somewhere, because in that artificial silence around them, Hank heard the quiet buzzing of processors.

He ripped his eyes open in surprise, searching Connor's face for any sign that the android was alive. Connor wasn't breathing but androids didn't need to, did they? His chest didn't rise or fall and he didn't have a pulse when Hank pressed his fingers on his throat. But he could feel Connor's heart beating, agonizingly slow but surely.

The hole in Connor's stomach was growing back together, because the bastard was _self-repairing_ and Hank couldn't stop the relieved laugh leaving his lips.

But then the battle crashed down on him again, the screams and shots filling Hank's ears and he knew that he had to get Connor out of here.

Hank hooked one arm under Connor's legs and heaved the android up. Connor was definitively a lot heavier than he looked and Hank's face grew red as he struggled to keep the android in his arms.

Jericho was the closest shelter and Hank hurried towards it. He kept his eyes firmly on the ground because if he fell over a stray hand or leg again, he wasn't sure if he could stand up again.

His arms burned and his back protested loudly, but Hank ignored them resolutely as he put one foot in front the other.

A dying Sinner crashed into him and Hank stumbled dangerously, the extra weight in his arms screwing with his balance. He gritted his teeth and stayed standing, swaying like an old oak.

But Jericho was almost in reach and if he managed to get behind the heavy wooden doors, Connor would be safe.

A Sinner screeched into Hank's ear and he had but a moment to throw himself forward, narrowly missing the arm that would have ripped out his heart. Connor rolled a few feet away from Hank, out of immediate reach from the Sinner and Hank had enough time to draw his gun and shoot it in the head and heart.

The Sinner took a step towards Hank before it fell backwards and landed with a crash between bodies of androids.

Hank fought back to his feet again and hoisted Connor back up into his arms again. The last few steps towards Jericho felt like each shaved a year off Hank's life but it was worth it when the doors parted and the slightly green face of an android appeared in the gap.

Hank was ushered inside and he let himself fall between injured androids, careful not to jostle Connor too much before pulling him onto his knees again. He laid a hand on Connor's forehead to feel the minimal humming from his processor.

Hank stayed like that and stared at Connor's face for what felt like ages before he felt a gentle touch on his arm.

“You are bleeding” murmured Connor quietly and Hank met the dull gaze of the android in his lap.

“Don't you ever do that again, you hear?” warned Hank but he felt his lips stretch into a fond smile. Connor's eyes grew soft around the edges and he slowly raised a hand to cup Hank's cheek.

The world around them vanished like smeared paint and Connor managed a tired smile that had something big and warm blossom in Hank's chest. He felt it pulsating in a steady rhythm drawing his innards together with every beat. Connor looked so beautiful like that, lying on Hank's legs with his hair mussed and exhausted expression on his face. Hank never wanted to lose this.

He turned his head out of Connor's hand.

Hank could see Connor's arm fall to his side and he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to see whatever expression Connor had on his face. He couldn't.

Before either of them could say anything, the main door to the city center crashed open. Markus stepped through with a gaggle of androids behind him, splattered with blue blood and looking for all intends and purposes like the rebel leader everyone had accused him of being. The android with the strawberry blond hair stood proudly at his side.

Markus swept his gaze over the mass of injured androids to stop and focus on Hank and Connor. He held Hank's stare for a moment before he nodded his head in the direction of his office.

Hank wordlessly pulled Connor to his legs wrapped the android's arm around his shoulders in support. Together they staggered out of entrance hall to the deserted hallway. He could hear Markus delivering some kind of speech to the injured androids, something about finding the cause of this attack. Probably why he wanted to speak with them in the first place.

Markus office hadn't really changed much; it was still filled with paintings, although they tended to be a lot darker than they had been when Hank had first entered this room.

The painting Markus had worked on last time stood crammed between two others, one of a familiar looking old man with a pained expression on his face. On the easel stood an unfinished painting of a blond, male android cupping a blue heart in its hands. The look on its face was so soft and tender that Hank had to look away, he felt like he had invaded something personal, something intimate.

Hank deposited Connor on one of the chairs by the wooden desk and leaned against the wall behind it. Connor's gaze was focused on the unfinished painting, a look of utter despair on his face. Hank felt his heart seize in answer.

The door to the office opened and Markus stepped in with the female android that had saved Hank and another male, black one. The female one immediately crossed her arms in front of her chest and scowled at Hank while the male one rubbed the bridge of its nose in annoyance.

Markus let himself fall into the chair behind the wooden desk and leaned back with a weary expression on his face. “Lieutenant Hank Anderson, these are my friends and entrusted second in commands North and Josh. Let's hope they stay productive and not rip each other’s throats out.” The last thing was pointedly said into the direction of the two other androids and North looked ready to tear Markus a new one.

He wisely hurried on. “We want to know what you two know about the attackers. Captain Fowler said he'd send you two because you actually know what's going on at the moment.”

Connor staring out of the window, pretending very hard to be somewhere else. Hank let out an exhausted sigh; looked like he had to bite that bullet.

“They are called Sinners and are, fuck, what did Gucket call 'em? Sub strain?” Hank rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't made for technical talk. “They are sub strains made from a defective android. Developmental research. We haven't quite found out why they were made, we only know that they were killing everyone involved in their creation.”

Markus frowned. “But they are androids?”

“No!” The female android, North slapped her hands on the desk. “No, I know that look on your face, Markus. They killed hundreds of our people!”

Markus rubbed his temple with a pained expression. “If they are androids, they are our people, North. They just don't know that yet.”

“No!” shouted North again, fire in her eyes. “You saw what they did out there! They are monsters, you can't reason with them!”

“That is the same humans used to say about us, North.” Markus slumped in his seat. “If we just talk to them-”

“I doubt they listen” interrupted Hank. He was the designated expert (fuck him) and so it fell to him to clarify these things. “They are practically brainless. I think they can access your program and copy it? And force you to execute it? Fuck, I'm bad at these things.” Hank looked to Connor for help but the android resolutely continued to stare out of the window.

“All the more reason not to trust them” hissed North. Markus raised his hands in defense.

“Maybe you're right. Maybe not. We can't say anything for certain at this point.”

“No, there is no 'maybe' in this! You are just too blind to see the things directly in front of you!” snarled North and raised her arms aggressively. Markus' face darkened but it was Josh who laid a hand on North shoulder.

“Don't make this about Simon” said Josh gently and the coin dropped for Hank. His eyes widen as he stared at the unfinished painting, he knew he had seen it somewhere. On the roof of Channel 16; the android that shot itself. Hank could never forget Connor's face at that moment. _I was scared_.

“I’m not making this about Simon!” screamed North with frustrated tears in her eyes. “I _never_ make it about Simon. But you two act like everything I do is to get back at a dead guy for kissing the dude I had a crush on!”

She stormed to the door before she stopped dead in her tracks and threw a poisonous glare at Markus. “I got over it. It's time that you do too.”

She shut the door with a bang.

▲▼▲

They stayed like that for quite a while, the awkward silence hanging heavy between them.

“I'll go and calm her down” proposed Josh with a wince. Hank could very much understand the feeling. He'd do anything but chase after the fiery android.

Josh left the office with a strained wave and left the three remaining in a depressing atmosphere. Connor had decided that he'd rather stare his own hands into oblivion and Markus had his head in propped up in his hands and looked very much like a man shortly before a mental breakdown. Reassuring odds, really.

Hank decided to be the adult in this gaggle of overburdened children and cleared his throat. Markus eyes immediately trained on him. Fucking great.

“That research group must be in the files you got from CyberLife. If you could look for something, even if it's just Baumgarten's fucking baby pictures, anything helps.”

Markus nodded. “Sure, whatever you need. Is there something else we can do to help you with this?”

“Ehm, we know of other members from that group. Stevenson, Gucket, McGregger, some other woman, and Baumgarten. Oh, and Stevenson was an android. Did I miss someone?” asked Hank in Connor's direction.

“Zlatko” murmured Connor into his lap.

Hank rubbed his neck. “And if you could keep your eyes peeled for an android with a giant scar across its face, like seriously deep scar, we'd appreciate it.”

“A female KR300” added Connor, his LED circling yellow.

“Why do you need her?” Markus folded his hands in front of his face. “I don't make a habit of handing over androids to the police.”

Hank felt his face pull taunt. “It's at the center of all this shit. Able to copy code from androids too, the Sinners descended from it.”

Markus frowned in thought before his shoulders slumped. “Fine. I tell you if I find her.” Markus stood up and leisurely walked towards the big window, staring outside into the dark. Light rain started to pitter patter against the glass. “This may be reason enough to contact Kamski. He had offered his help when we were negotiating the peace terms, I'll try to get something from his end.”

Hank glanced at Connor and saw a streak of red in his LED. “May be worth a try” he agreed regardless.

Markus turned around and for the first time since they entered the office, looked at Connor. There was fondness in his gaze but worry and a hint of apprehension too.

“How are you, Connor?” he asked softly but Connor flinched as if Markus had hit him.

“I am fine. I was in emergency shut-down for 26 minutes but I'm in working condition again” answered Connor clipped. His face had turned into that blank mask again and he still wasn't looking at Markus.

“Just... don't disappear again, okay?” There was hurt in Markus face but it morphed slowly into concern the more Connor seemed to fold into himself.

Connor didn't answer.

Hank put his hands into his pockets and pushed away from the wall. “Well, as fun as this was, we should head home. I need a drink.”

Connor shot out of his chair and was by the door in a flash. Hank shrugged apologetic in Markus direction, who just smiled self-deprecating.

Hank shouldered his way to Connor's side and opened the door. Outside in the cold and empty hallway Hank had to admit that he didn't want to go home. Not with what was waiting there.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Poor Baby” she whispered as she wrote this chapter, lovingly addressing a 53 year old man with issues. Lots and lots of issues. Just talk to someone, jeeze.


	7. My Darling, my Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any inconsistencies that came up in the story. I should have weeded them out, but this chapter was written over three months with long stretches of time were I couldn't write a single word. I'm gonna go over it and change small details after the final chapter is up, just to make what Hank knows at every point in time consistent with what he has been actually told. Of maybe I'm just paranoid and everything is fine. Please let me know if you happen to notice something.
> 
> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

They sat inside the car with running motor for what felt like ages, just starring at the dark house in front of them.

Hank... didn't really know what to do. Stress and permanent adrenaline had pushed other things so far down the to-do list that Hank hadn't really had time to process them. But the calm inside the car felt very much like the atmosphere after a battle, the quite reverence of past horrors, what they had witnessed at Jericho, Connor's fucking near death and what they had left behind. What was still between them in the unsung words, in the air between their touches and it was too much.

He couldn't deal with it right now. He couldn't deal with anything right now. It was just... too much.

Hank felt his chest constrict, his guts twisting inside out and hands getting sweaty. His breath came out hard, he felt like he was choking on the air inside his lungs. His vision blacked out around the edges while the dark and looming windows of his bedroom seemed to grow bigger and bigger and Hank clenched his hands around the steering wheel to keep them from shaking, shaking so much but they were not shaking, his whole body was shaken by violent tremors and it was just too much.

“I would appreciate it if you could wait in the car for a while, Lieutenant.” Connor's pleasantly polite voice ripped Hank out of his head and his felt his neck crack loudly as he whipped it around to stare at the android in the passenger seat. He had forgotten Connor was even there.

“Sure” agreed Hank but his voice was rough and dark, like he had screamed for the last hour or so. Connor locked eyes with Hank before leaving the car, his brown eyes filled to the brim with worry and something warmer.

Connor entered the looming house though the still unlocked front door; because at that point, what was the use in locking it? Hank kept his eyes firmly on the dark windows until Connor turned the lights on in the individual rooms to clean the worst of the clutter.

He tried to keep his breathing even and counted the space between each intake. Sometimes, he would glance flashes of Connor through the blinds, saw him roaming around with disheveled hair and pushed up sleeves. He was still splattered in blue blood, probably real fucking exhausted from nearly dying and all but he still was there, making sure Hank could enter his own fucking house. Making this as easy for Hank as possible.

Hank felt his age in every bone and boulders of stress on his shoulders but he still swore, right there, alone in the dark car, that he would do something for Connor. Something to lift whatever shitty load the android had to carry around with him. Because Connor had always done his best to help him, the old alcoholic dead-beat detective; a man out of his pride. Connor had looked at that and decided to change that. At first for the mission, but there was no mission now, was there?

This was all because Connor wanted to do it.

He had looked at a broken man and thought that he, what? Should fall in love with him? Or was it just a duckling imprinting on the first person too slow to get out of dodge? Had Connor even a slight inkling what kissing someone meant? Or had he just seen that in one of his countless data bases and thought that it was the best option to end the argument. Because it had sure as hell shut Hank right up.

He thought back to that interrogation he had seen out of Connor's eyes. Every small interaction, every twitching muscle had been painstakingly calculated for the desired end result. Deviants were supposed to feel _like_ humans did, right? But it wasn't like that, at least not for Connor. He still thought in numbers and percentages.

But he had compassion, the current situation showed as much. He had empathy and fears. And somehow, despite all that he had decided to kiss Hank. He had sat in that interrogation room and had tried to take the android apart by the seams, had masterfully tried to manipulate it into giving all its secrets away. In that moment, Connor had been an efficient machine, the android send by CyberLife to fulfill its mission.

And Hank had been scared by it. He had felt like everything that had happened between them was just Connor trying to reach the best possible outcome of every conversation. Like Connor had manipulated every positive feeling Hank had ever felt for the android. And, at least in part, that was exactly what had happened before Connor deviated. He had seen a number of, of affection in Hank and had tried to increase it with every conversation, with every action, in order to make Hank pleasant to work with.

And thinking this... hurt. It hurt that Hank had been nothing more than a variable, that maybe, he still was. That this meant nothing for Connor, whatever the fuck this was. He couldn't look at Connor the way he wanted to, touch him the way he longed to; if he was asking himself at the same time if this was just another interaction for Connor. A blank box to check on the long list of things Connor tried to fulfill.

Because he wanted this to mean something. Hank sure as fuck didn't deserve it, but he wanted it all the same. He was too old to lie to himself about something like this. He knew his feelings, even if he was quite adept at ignoring them to the fullest. But he still knew about them, even if he decided he rather not feel them right now, thank you very much.

But this thing with Connor, whatever was truly brewing in between them, was crooked in so many ways. Connor was only a few fucking months old, for starters. Ways to young and... pristine for some old sack like Hank. Then there was that hole father-son undertone between them, because Hank was a sad, sad man and took strays in to make up for the hole Cole had left inside him. Basically a bunch of reasons why whatever the fuck he might feel for Connor was a very bad idea and should be suppressed by all means necessary.

And Hank was really fucking great at suppressing emotions of all kind. 'Ignore them until they go away' wasn't just an inspirational sticky note on his mirror after all.

The front door opened again and Connor stepped out in all his disheveled glory. He approached the car slowly, like walking towards a wild animal. And by the way Hank immediately tensed he could appreciate the sentiment.

Hank let down the passenger side window as Connor leaned down. It felt safer with the metal building a shield between him and the world.

“It's okay now” said Connor softly, his voice deep.

Hank nodded and swallowed, throat dry as a desert.

The house hadn't lost any ominous atmosphere, even with the lights on and the windows open. It seemed to curve upwards as Hank approached it, looming over his head like in a cheap cartoon.

The inside looked... better. Most of the chaos was cleaned up, the floor clean of rubble and the TV free of kitchen cabinet. But it was still broken, the walls still covered in scratches spelling the word 'Finder' and the blanket thrown over the couch could not hide the way it was slashed up from top to bottom. And no matter to what length Connor went, the absence of _scritch scratch_ from claws on hardwood floor was ripping a hole in the silence. Hank felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

“What did you do with... the body?” His voice sounded breathless and Hank felt faint. He didn't want to know. He _really_ didn't want to know.

“I wrapped it up in a plastic plane and left it in the garage. The cold should keep it from decomposing until we can bury or burn it” said Connor emotionless, his voice a pleasantly neutral rumble. Hank knew that Connor liked to hide behind his programming if he was highly uncomfortable with something. It hurt somewhere in his stomach to hear Connor talk like that again.

“Okay.” Hank tried to keep his thoughts as far away from the garage as possible, starring at the wall next to his broken TV like his life depended on it. Huh, in this light the word looked a little like two separate ones.

“Are you okay?” asked Connor and ripped Hank out of his musings. He couldn't bring himself to shake his head, just walked over to his mostly intact liquor cabinet.

Connor stayed silent as Hank cracked a bottle of whiskey open and took a deep drag. He didn't look disappointed but very, very sad.

▲▼▲

A gentle hand roused Hank from a formless nightmare filled with sticky fur and blue blood coating his hands.

“Lieutenant, you should wake up. You are almost an hour late for work” pressed Connor gently.

Hank pried his eyes open only to be assaulted by a particularly bright ray of light. He groaned as he turned away, his mouth feeling like a fucking sewer after a drought.

“Hank” chided Connor and shook him slightly. The fucking android sounded way too awake for this hour, especially since he sat across from Hank all night long, keeping an eye on him. The bastard probably stayed in that armchair all night long, making sure Hank didn't suffocate on his own puke.

Fucking considerate.

“You should shower. If you need assistance with that again...” Connor let the sentence fade out, but it sounded less like uncertainty and more like a threat. Hank raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. I'm awake” he slurred, sounding very much not awake. Connor's answering hum was not convinced.

To prove his awakedness and general not-need for a sobering shower, Hank pushed himself out of the couch, swaying only a little bit. A blanket fluttered to the ground, a blanket Hank was sure lay folded up at the top of his closet and certainly _not_ something he would get while drunk. He felt warmth pooling in his stomach.

He probably just had to go have a good puke.

Hank stumbled his way to the bathroom, a stabilizing hand on the wall. He kept his eyes away from the door at the end of the hallway.

“What do you want to wear?” shouted Connor after him amused.

“Don't care. Choose something you like” answered Hank and shut the bathroom door.

A warm shower helped his muscles relax and the water thrummed steadily onto his shoulders. He wanted to sit down but Connor was just a door away and Hank didn't want to the android to see another mental breakdown. The one last night was embarrassing enough.

Connor had been nice enough already to a guy that didn't deserve it in the slightest. The android shouldn't feel the need to help him more, for fucks sake, Hank was the grown-up in this whatever it was. He was the fucking adult here.

Hank wasn't Connor's responsibility and Hank's metal health was just his own business. He didn't need help. He didn't want it either.

He turned off the shower, his back tense again. But he’d sobered up as much as possible, so that was a plus.

He dried off and tied a towel around his waist. He brushed his teeth and noted that Connor had removed the sticky notes from the mirror. Why ever he found the need to do so was beyond him.

A soft knock sounded on the bathroom door.

Hank waited for a moment, expecting the android to just waltz in, but the door stayed shut. A suffering sigh on his lips, Hank walked over.

Connor's eyes went big when Hank opened the door, his eyes roaming quickly over Hank's body. Too quickly for a human to register anything but the android probably knew everything about him from his BMI to every bodily fluid in a nice pie chart now. Hank felt weirdly self-conscious and folded his arms in front of his chest.

“You wanted...” Connor swallowed, “I brought clothes.” He held out a bundle of clothes like a sacrificial offering. Hank raised a judging eyebrow at the horrendously colored shirt Connor had chosen, but before the android could flee with it and hide, like his face indicated he very much liked to do now, Hank snatched the clothes out of Connor's hands.

“Thanks” he mumbled but a fond smile betrayed him. Connor had no eye for fashion, this much was clear. Hank resolutely ignored the glaring fact that he himself had actually bought the clothes with the experience of someone how had to face his own inability for dressing sensibly on a regular occurrence.

“You should take one of my hoodies,” suggested Hank. Connor had resorted to keeping his eyes averted. “Except of course if you want to walk into the precinct covered in blue blood.”

Hank was sure that if Connor had the ability to blush, he would now. Connor looked abashed down his button down shirt with most of the buttons torn off where it was ripped to shreds when the Sinner had plunged its hand into Connor's stomach. Good times.

Deeming the conversation finished, Connor hurried towards the bedroom and shut the door with a bang. Amusement bubbled hotly in Hank's belly and he had to turn away with a big smile on his face.

After dressing himself, Hank made himself a sandwich to go, Connor still vanished inside his bedroom. Whatever the android was doing there, Hank didn't really feel the need to pry so he stayed in the living room and asserted the damages himself. It looked a lot less harsh in the daylight, even with the low hanging clouds outside, losing the unreal aura from the night before.

His eyes yet again kept hanging on the words scratched into the wall. Connor had said that they spelled 'Finder' and Hank could most definitely see it in some scratches but most of them were near illegible. The word was spelled in different ways, sometimes capitalizing different letters. The cleanest looking scribble had an 'h' after the 'd'. Something nagged at the back of Hank's mind and his face furrowed in concentration.

Soft steps alerted him to someone approaching him from behind and when Hank turned around, he had to swallow. Connor had probably upturned his hole closet to find the one t-shirt that hadn't been stretched by Hank's growing stomach, so it hugged him snugly. The faded print depicted the logo of a metal festival Hank had visited in his youth.

Connor nervously played with his coin, letting in roll up and down his fingers. He seemed to wait for Hank's judgment so he had to collect his thoughts back together and gather up his jaw back from the ground.

“You look... good” said Hank but his voice sounded strained in a way that had nothing to do with what Connor had chosen to wear but more with _how_ it looked on him. Fucking hell.

Connor self-consciously reached for his jacket and shrugged it on. Hank meanwhile contemplated beating his head against the wall for making Connor feel bad about the things he had chosen to wear. He had to go and fuck this up as well, hadn't he? Fucking great.

“We should probably... go.” Hank cringed at his own awkward words. He had to shove his fucking foot up his mouth and make Connor feel bad. Why wasn't the ground opening up to shallow him hole? He deserved it for the kicked puppy look he was getting right now. 

When they arrived at the precinct, it looked like hell had spilled over. People, humans, had spread around, covered from head to toe in military gear, equipped with the special stun guns strong enough to incapacitated android bears. Hank could spot Gavin leaning against his former desk, scowling at the beans spread over it and destroying the intricate patterns with lazy movements.

Before Hank could approach him, or shove Connor into the next closet to imprint a few words of warning on the detective, a very angry android stepped in his way.

“You're late” hissed North, her strawberry hair in a loose braid whipping around her shoulder. Hank raised his hands in placation.

“I didn't know we were expected.” A FBI agent walked past them and shoulder-checked North hard enough for her to turn with the blow. She sent poisonous glares at his back but stayed otherwise still.

“Markus sent me. I’m supposed to help you guys out and be an open channel as soon as Kamski has some input for us.” She avoided looking at them and shifted on her feet.

Hank and Connor shared a look. Connor raised an eyebrow. Hank frowned. Connor shrugged with a shoulder. Hank let out a defeated sigh.

“Sure, tag along. I'm sure this is a 'all-hands-on-deck' situation”

The trio pushed their way through the horde of humans cluttering around towards Fowler's office. Hank tripped over an open box of ammunition on the ground and Connor had to catch him before he face-planted on the ground.

Fowler's face would be absolutely hilarious in any other circumstance, but as it was it simply pressed down the need for action. “Three attacks last night with the big one on Jericho and one this morning already, all against androids but humans have been caught in the cross-fire. The president in breathing down my neck and the FBI wants to just start shooting everything that has blue blood. This is really fucking serious.”

Hank felt his back straighten and a mask slid over his face. “What does the media know?”

“Nothing as of now. Since this is first and foremost android businesses we managed to keep this under lock and key but not for long. Experience shows that androids have really fucking dramatic timing when it comes to this.”

Hank could see North gearing up to rip Fowler a new one so he hurried to continue this before they could begin a time-consuming scrabble. 

“What do you need us to do?”

“We have enough firepower to slow down the fighting on the streets, but I need you two,” Fowler threw a glance at North, “three to find out why the Sinners decided to attack and find a solution. Preferably before the city gets nuked.”

Hank met Connor's gaze for a second. “We don't really have a lead right now...”

Fowler brushed them off. “We have a Sinner in detainment. It surrendered when the FBI arrived at the battle around Freedom Square.” Fowler let his head rest on his hands, his face growing dark. “It has blood splattered around it. Red blood.”

“And blue blood would be better?” snapped North, her eyes narrowed to slits.

Fowler let out an exhausted breath. “Just... fix this, fine? Let me deal with the details.”

Before North could let out the storm of complaints brewing behind her eyes, Hank grabbed her forearm and dragged her out of the office. As soon as the glass door closed behind them, she ripped her arm out of his grasp and stared a hole into his skull.

“Never do that again.” she hissed, voice dripping with poison. Hank raised his hands in surrender.

“It's not helpful if you deliver a verbal smack-down to the captain of the police force. Funny, but not helpful.” North didn't really seem in a very forgiving mood as she continued to glare at him. “But I'll promise to only touch you if it's to save your life.” Hank added a little more gently.

North blinked. She glanced aside and rubbed her arm. She looked almost... embarrassed.

“Would you look at that. I thought they threw you old sack of shit off the force” a familiar but grating voice called out. Hank had enough time to roll his eyes before Gavin stood before them in all his asshole glory, sneering at the androids at Hanks side. “Got yourself another plastic toy? Was one not enough? Need one to scratch your back and the other to wipe your ass?”

Gavin chuckled darkly but Hank could feel North's tension like eclectic current in the air. She kept quiet, surprisingly. Seemed like she took his little speech seriously. Well, Gavin was an asshole and he probably deserved it anyway. Hank grinned maliciously.

“He's all yours, North.”

Hank could see her eyes widen in surprise before storm clouds hid the slight gratitude.

“Listen here, you little shit...”

Hank tuned her out and turned to Connor who followed the exchange with amusement sparkling in his eyes. 

“Should we leave her alone?”

Connor turned to him, a smirk on his lips. “Better not. Otherwise she’ll start beating Detective Reed into a bloody pulp.”

Hank felt an answering smile stretch his lips. “Look at that. She got an audience.”

A ring had formed around North and Gavin, onlookers watching as Gavin got smaller and smaller as North hissed at him and stabbed her finger into his chest like a dagger. But suddenly, in the middle of shouting at Gavin that ignorant people like him were reason for a lot of hardships of androids, she stopped. Stood there motionless, eyes wide and mouth slack.

Before Gavin could gather himself to defend his honor, North snapped out of it and reached for the station-wide TV remote.

“Something is happening.” She said in lieu of explanation.

North switched to a newscast and Hank felt his stomach drop as he saw Kamski's familiar mug. The hole station had quietened down. He had a very bad feeling.

_“-amski is here in the studio with us for an exclusive interview about the situation in Detroit. Mister Kamski, could you elaborate on that? Most of us didn't know that there was a situation in the new Android-City.”_ Kamski looked slightly bored as he slid a little deeper into his chair. But his voice was a charming as ever.

_“I didn't know either. But I was recently informed that there is a crisis going on in Detroit at this very moment. Apparently, failed experiments fled the abandoned CyberLife facility and attacked citizens.”_ Kamski's voice had all the right intonations, the perfect level of sympathy in his speech, but his eyes stayed cold and calculating. Maybe you had to have seen Kamski press a gun into Connor's hands and tell him to shoot with that same look in his eyes to be able to spot it. “These experiments didn't start when I was still CEO, so of course I didn't know about them. It shows again, how incompetent my replacement had to have been.” Still charming, still polite to overshadow his harsh words.

_“What were those experiments? Are they dangerous?”_ The reporter asked with the exactly right amount of worry without addressing Kamski's shift of blame. This hole interview felt extremely staged.

_“That is the interesting bit about this hole debacle. Apparently these experiments were to develop self-conscious Androids. In fact, the very same that happened to pop up in Detroit.”_ Did no one notice the greed glinting in Kamski's eyes? The shark-like grin? Going by the worried faces around him, no one did.

“Bullshit” cussed North angry. She was shushed.

The reporter gasped dramatically. _“So, it's possible that this hole rebellion was simply a product of a failed experiment?”_

Kamski looked directly into the camera. _“It's very possible, yes.”_

The display shut off with a click, North clenching the remote between shaking fingers.

“This is bullshit,” she hissed. “They didn't appear until after the rebellion. They have nothing to do with what we did.”

She glared at everyone who dared to cross her gaze. Hank didn't look away when her eyes bore into his.

“Let's do our job and clear this up. We'll only know if Kamski's wrong if we find out what's really going on.” Hank tried to keep his voice as non-confrontational as possible. After a second or two, North nodded.

The way to the interrogation room was paved in silent stares.

▲▼▲

The Sinner had long, spindly arms, a narrow head and yellow glowing eyes. A silver sheen stuck like oil to its slightly gray skin, leaving smudges on the table where its narrow wrists were handcuffed.

Hank slide from side to side in the chair opposite from the Sinner, careful not to look at the bloody specks on its hands. The Sinner continued to just stare dead-eyed into the distance, seemingly not even aware that Hank was there.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, my name is Lieutenant Anderson.” He paused uncertainly. “Do you... eh, do you want some water maybe?”

He wanted to go over to the wall and beat his head against it. Fuck, why were his thoughts so scattered? He was usually better at this, damn it. But the android’s eyes flickered to him, for only a heartbeat. He counted that as a win.

“Do you know why you are here?” No reaction. Hank cleared his throat again and clasped his hands into each other to keep them from fidgeting.

“Why are you and your friends attacking androids? What do you want from them?”

The android’s eyes stayed longer on his face this time. It opened its mouth for a few seconds before closing it again. Its forehead rippled, like it was frowning but the motion looked so alien, Hank couldn't be sure.

“Come on, throw me a bone here” said Hank, scratching his cheek. “Look over there, to the mirror. Behind it are two androids gagging for a chance to take a piece out of your bacon.”

This was, as Connor had put it so adeptly before, not standard procedure. Normal confessions were a mixture out of clever questions and steadily increasing pressure. But Hank couldn't very well ask the standard questions and androids tended to be frustratingly immune to pressure. At least the ones that didn't deviate. But this fucker is supposed to be the mother of all deviants. Might be worth a shot.

“We know what you did. We have proof” said Hank, leaning forward in his chair, invading the Sinner's personal space. “We wouldn't even need proof; you know? You have guilty written all over you. So why don't you start talkin' and maybe I can do something for ya.”

That was, of course, a well told lie in the interrogation room. 'I promise, nothing will happen', 'It'll feel better if you get it of your chest', 'If you tell me now, they'll consider that during trial'. All lies meant to make the suspect sing, and they worked normally. Normally.

But the Sinner showed clear distress, it's eyes flickering as if it was blinking. A black, sleek tongue slipped forward and coated its metallic lips with clear fluid. It was a surprising human gesture in this freak show of an android.

_“I...”_ the Sinner rasped. _“I didn't mean to hurt it.”_

Hank narrowed his eyes but inside his head he tapped himself proudly on the shoulder. He still got it.

“Who didn't you meant to hurt?”

_“I just want to see her”_ the Sinner said, leaning forward. _“But it was so loud. So loud. I couldn't think.”_

“'Her'? You mean rA9?” asked Hank. The Sinner was now dangerously close, but Hank didn't want to lean away again. It could be seen as a show of weakness.

The Sinner's eyes light up. _“The One, the Queen, the Only. Her.”_

It sounded almost like a song.

“Aha,” said Hank, trying his best not to put a negative connotation on that. “So you went to an active battlefield to what? Look under a stone or something?”

_“I was running. I couldn't stop because it was still so loud in my head.”_ The Sinner hit its head against the desk. Hank was half out of his chair when the Sinner straightened up and looked confused by Hank's panicked expression. It blinked once. _“I know they had Her, they smelled like Her. So I wanted to find Her there, but it was so loud. So loud._

_But so soft and furry.”_

Ice cold water washed over Hank's head and his vision tunneled. The Sinner couldn't _possibly_ mean what Hank thought. It was not fucking possible. His mouth fell open and his face slackened in shock and he could _feel_ all that with the cool detachment years in the force had brought him, but inside his mind was pure chaos. He wanted to start hitting the Sinner, he wanted to storm out, he wanted to break down crying, he wanted to take his pistol and put enough bullets into the fucker to fill its veins with lead. But ultimately, he wanted to be _wrong_.

The door of the interrogation room opened and Connor burst into the room, a fearful look in his eyes and Hank's name on his lips. And destroyed every chance of Hank coming to the wrong conclusion. Fuck this piece of plastic.

But there was this thing between Connor and Hank. This thing that made Hank calm the more panicked Connor got. And right now, Connor looked ready to vibrate out of his own skin. As a result, Hank felt a serenity wash over his like a gentle river. His shoulders unlocked, his hands clasped loosely in front of him and his face became impassive.

“Thank you Connor. You can go now.”

Hank could feel Connor's displeasure, it colored the air an uncomfortable yellow, but Connor had to deal. Hank couldn't concentrate with him in the interrogation room. He kept his eyes on the Sinner until he could hear the door close again before he breathed out.

“You went to my house to find rA9 and upon encountering my dog, you killed him.” Cold, hard facts. Don't give it a chance to say yes or no.

_“You smelled like Her”_ the Sinner explained.

“Like rA9?”

_“No.”_

“Ah, right. You don't like the name rA9. I forgot” said Hank, keeping his voice level. He could feel his hands begin to shake again, so he clenched them into fists. “What do you intend to do once you find her?”

Suddenly, the Sinner started to twitch and spasm. _“Find Her, find Her, find Her...”_. Black spit started to run down its lips while Hank finally solved that particular mystery. Of course the Sinner wouldn't start writing 'Finder' all over the walls, of course not. Why would they?

It had been nagging at the back of his head, that pea under his mattress. He had assumed that they meant him and Connor, because they were quite literary the finders of the rA9 android. Or that they meant Baumgarten, because she hid it. But this? This was not some weird, strange declaration of war. It was a command.

Maybe even a way of communicating.

This was a plea, and order and a wish all rolled into one. And going by the Sinner's reaction, it was hard-coded into the Sinner's software.

The intercom cracked into life.

_“Lieutenant. Marcus is calling”_ informed him Connor's cool voice. He had apparently composed himself again or was just trying very, very hard to remain neutral.

Hank nodded once in conformation and threw a last glance at the twitching, drooling mess in front of him. The familiar anger and despair was trying to raise up from his stomach again, but Hank shoved it down without compromise. He could deal with it later. But he could feel the explosion waiting to happen inside of him. His skin started to span and his face tightened. There was just _so much_ he was not thinking about.

But all that could wait. It had to wait. His work came first.

The observation room was eerily quiet, North stood in front of the window with a closed off look on her face and crossed arms. Connor waited for him with a strained smile.

Hank took the offered phone and, with a bit of fumbling, managed to put it on speaker.

“I could use some good news, Markus.”

“It's not necessarily good news I have for you,” came Markus' voice from the speaker. “But information. I looked through the CyberLife files we have. There isn't any mention of the research group you were talking about, but I found something about this Baumgarten.”

Hank and Connor shared a heavy look. North sighted long-suffering.

“Apparently, she transferred to CyberLife from Germany, where she was known as 'Maja Baumgarten', with a 'j'. She changed it to the English way of spelling after moving here.”

“What was she doing in Germany? They don't have an android facility there” asked Connor.

“She studied neuroscience in Cologne and after that worked with the Russian android producers. I don't know what she did there specifically, but after four years she started working for CyberLife.”

“Anything on the rouge android?” asked Hank. North started fidgeting.

“Not yet, but I call you as soon as I know something.” Markus sounded exhausted. A sentiment which Hank could fully share. “I need to hang up now. The FBI is very insistent that they monitor every move I make and they start to get twitchy. And Lieutenant?” Markus waited a beat. “I'm sorry about Kamski. I didn't expect him to react so... uncontrollably.”

“Not your fault” murmured Hank.

North opened her mouth in indignation, ready to launch another verbal attack but Markus had hung up. The dial tone was strangely loud in the resulting silence.

▲▼▲

North had returned to her perch by the window after the call had ended while Connor was walking circles into the linoleum in thought. Hank didn't quite know what to do with himself.

“It's strange. This Sinner... it feels like Lucy.” North frowned and leaned closer to the observation window. “It's weird how similar they are.”

“Was that Lucy a drooling mess?” Hank huffed exasperated. He was beginning to be fed up with her.

“No,” North turned around to throw a poisons glare at Hank. “But she had to be connected to a server we had on the boat the hole time. Or else she would shut down.” North squinted at the Sinner. “Come to think of it, Lucy could bypass firewalls as well to access memory.”

Hank felt his eyes widen. Connor had the same realization written on his face.

“What are you two lovebirds staring at each other again?” asked North annoyed, but the tense line of her shoulder showed that she had at least managed to read the atmosphere a little bit.

“It would make sense” said Connor, his face wrinkled in concentration.

“But how would they get to every android?” Hank crossed his arms in front of his body. His gut told him that they were on the right track.

“Androids connect all the time. It would be enough to give it to one single android at a register and watch it spread like a virus.” Connor began to flip his coin between his fingers. He turned to North. “Do you know where this Lucy came from? Do you know if she founded Jericho?”

“No,” said North, looking confused between Hank and Connor. “No one knew who founded Jericho. Simon was the oldest and even he didn't.”

“An idea that spreads like a virus. Shit, seems like Kamski did know about this deviancy bullshit.” Hank huffed out and leaned back against the wall.

“Wait, hold up,” North raised her hands, an angry frown forming again. “How did we end up talking about deviancy?”

“What do you think deviancy is, North?” asked Connor gently.

“Free will” said North with deep conviction in her voice. She crossed her arms again.

“Not quite, though it is a side-effect.” Before North could interrupt, Connor continued. “Deviancy begins with emotions. Androids are programmed to emulate feelings, but deviants can't distinguish between imitation and real emotions anymore. That's what we call deviancy. The free will and consequent breaking of pre-programmed behavior is just a side-effect.”

“So what are you saying?” hissed North.

Connor shot a glance at Hank and waited until he gave a slight nod of approval. They both had reached the same conclusion at the same time.

“Gucket said that the Sinners would never leave the research department and from what we have seen it appears to be true. Which means that someone let the Sinners out, starting, probably as a test run, with Lucy. Someone set her up in the Jericho fighter with the necessary equipment she needs to survive and let her spread the deviancy-virus from there.”

Connor stepped towards the observation window, eyes locked on the Sinner. “Which means that someone initiated the whole rebellion. Everything that had happened, everything that we changed, someone was in the background pulling the strings.”

“No,” North shook her head vehemently. “No, you are wrong. We did this ourselves. This was our victory.”

“Do you know were Markus came from?” asked Connor softly with that negotiator voice of his meant to calm whoever he was talking to. North didn't say anything, just glared at Connor. “He was a prototype built specifically for Carl Manfred, by Elijah Kamski himself. From what I understand, the rebellion only really started when he came to Jericho, did it not?”

“I didn't know that.” Hank frowned. Connor threw him an apologetic glance.

“I found out in the Channel 16 tower. It didn't seem relevant to the investigation at that time.”

“Markus needs to know about this.” North had her hands clenched at her sides. “If this is true, and I don't think it is, it would mean that CyberLife still has control over us. We can't let that happen.” She trudged over to the door, for all intends and purposes leaving.

“North,” called Connor out. She stopped and turned around. “What do you know about how Markus spread deviancy?”

“I don't know,” she said. “He just touched them. Why?” There was suspicion in her voice again.

“Isn't it strange how every android always decided that they wanted to follow him when he freed them?” Connor didn't really sound like he was there, his mind very far away.

“It's a just cause. Why shouldn't they follow him?” North crossed her arms again. “And anyway, you did it too, didn't you?”

When she turned around to leave, neither Hank nor Connor stopped her again.

“What's on your mind?” Hank joined Connor in front of the observation window.

“Markus always had a very specific idea what deviancy is. For him it manifested in being able to hurt back, to not take a beating. But also in very artistic directions, like piano playing or art.”

Hank thought back to a city covered in faces. “The skyscrapers?”

Connor nodded. “I think that what Markus did was overriding the existing program of androids with his own incentive. It's probably safe to assume that only the androids that deviated without his help really wrote their own programming.”

“Like that android on the highway, right? It didn't really look like rebellion was on its mind.”

“Exactly. So since Markus was a predecessor to my model, it would only be logical that I am able to override code with my own incentive as well.” Connor gently stroked over the Plexiglas. “From what we know, the Sinners were probably a prototype to the deviancy we see today. An experiment to give an android true free will. But their obsession with rA9 shows that this wasn't successful. They didn't have a given incentive, so they found one in the depth of their programming and spread it among others.” 

“Shit.” Hank dragged a hand over his tired face. “Shit, this is... shit.”

Connor gave him a private little smile. “Puts things into perspective, doesn't it?”

“Let's just... let's just go home.” Hank turned towards the door. “I had enough crazy for one day. This shit-house will still be here tomorrow. These things tend to stick.”

“Of course, Lieutenant” agreed Connor placidly, his smile turning self-deprecating.

▲▼▲

The weather had changed from the slight drizzle to a full out downpour when they arrived home again. Hank was ready to call it a day and maybe spend a few quality hours with his good friend Jack, but as soon as they stepped over the threshold, Hank's phone started to ring.

“I didn't even have time to get out of my Jacket, what the fuck” grumbled Hank but dutifully picked up. He didn't need Connor's chastising look for that, thank you very much.

“Hello Mr. Anderson. I'm sorry if I'm disturbing you.” A warm voice poured from the speaker, definitely not Markus. Hank looked slightly helpless at Connor, who mouthed the name 'Josh'. Well that, or he was remarking on how posh the voice was sounding. Not really likely.

“It's fine. What do you want?” asked Hank gruff.

“Markus told me to call you once we found the damaged android and-”

“You found her?” interrupted Hank hurriedly. Fuck, this might be the best fucking thing he heard in years.

“Yes,” said Josh strained. “We found her. She is at Jericho, but she did make some trouble. Markus is currently talking to her.”

“Great, we can be at Jericho in thirty minutes” said Hank, almost out of the door again.

“No!” shouted Josh and Hank froze. He could practically hear Josh wincing through the phone. “As I said, she made some ruckus when we brought her here, so she is quite aggravated right now. We fear that if you two come now, she might stress too much and self-destruct.”

“So what are we supposed to do then? Sit on our asses until she manages to run away again?” growled Hank angry.

“As I said, Markus is talking to her right now, trying to calm her down. Just...,” Josh sighed. “Just give her the night to settle down. You can't drive with that weather anyway; we haven't brought the streetlamps up again yet. We had to cut the power during the attack.”

“Fine. But we come over first thing in the morning.” Hank could feel his face twist like he just bit on a lemon but Josh gave some compelling arguments. And if it meant that Hank could have a few hours of sleep before he had to deal with the next heap of bullshit, he wasn't complaining.

He just hoped that she didn't slip their fingers.

His feet led him through the well-trodden way to the liqueur cabinet. This was definitely a whiskey day.

“Ah, Hank, wait...” warned Connor, but Hank had already opened the door and was staring at a big, fat load of nothing.

Not quite true, at the bottom of the cabinet was a sticky note with a smiley face drawn on.

Hank turned towards Connor with tired eyes. The android had shrunk in itself, as if he was expecting Hank to explode. Which he might even have done if he wasn't so fucking tired of everything. He closed his eyes for a moment, hand still uselessly holding the door of the empty cabinet open.

He let it fall shut and watched Connor flinch through lidded eyes. He felt bad immediately after.

“Just... Did you get rid of the beer as well?” asked Hank tonelessly. Connor nodded.

Hank sighed. He really hated how small Connor looked right now.

“Wanna watch some TV?”

Connor looked up and the look of surprise on his face was a sharp stab of pain for Hank. Fucking hell, he wasn't that bad, was he?

Apparently he was, because Connor basically catapulted himself onto the couch, trying for nonchalance with the way he sat. Which was absolutely ruined by the hopeful look on his face.

Hank's heart danced a fucking tango in his chest as he sat down next to him, extremely conscious of the space between them. He handed the remote over to Connor, because he could feel his fingers shaking and he didn't want to embarrass himself further. Connor couldn't use the voice command that came with every TV because Hank had specifically bought one that couldn't be controlled by androids. It seemed like eons ago now.

Connor chose some reruns of old 2020 movies after not finding a game and Hank let himself be pulled under by the nonsensical fight scene with enough cuts to completely dice a corpse and outside the sky turned dark.

During the beginning of the next movie (The last one had ended with a giant explosion and the leads shoving each other’s tongues down their throats), Hank was contemplating to slide a little closer to Connor. Just, it was warm in the jacket that he still hadn't managed to pull off without making a major fool of himself, and Connor was always quite cool. It's not like Hank wanted to cuddle or something.

But before he could talk enough courage into himself to actually move, Connor crashed into the TV-table, like he tried to stand up and only made it half way. For a second Hank was to shocked to actually move, but when Connor started to spasm like a fish out of water, Hank moved without really noticing.

“Connor?” Hank pulled Connor to the floor and tried to turn him on his back. He got a very sharp elbow into his gut and Connor's head started to shake so much it was hammering into the ground. Carefully, so fucking carefully, Hank pulled Connor's head onto his lap, wincing as the hard metal of the back of Connor's head hit his legs. This was gonna make some interesting bruises.

“Connor, come on. Wake up” said Hank, trying to keep Connor's head from denting his legs. Connor's eyes fluttered and his mouth was hanging slightly open. His limps knocked against couch and table while his whole body convulsed. Hank had never felt quite so helpless.

Then it stopped. Connor just laid there on the ground, motionless, his face like a plastic doll.

“Connor? Are you alright?” asked Hank tentatively.

Connor's eyes snapped open.

Hank startled back and before he could recover, before he could recognize the empty, cold look in Connor's eyes, he was pushed back. He heard his head crack against the TV-table before he met the wooden floor and felt the wet tickle of blood at his temple.

“Hank? Oh God, Hank” Connor sounded frantic, but far, far away. Hank felt distantly that hands were cradling his face. Pain was slowly registering in his brain and his face twisted.

He forced his eyes open, (When had he closed them?) and was met with the panicked brown of Connor's.

“You, you don't have a concussion, but you're bleeding” said Connor and he looked absolutely terrified. Hank forced himself into a sitting position, helped by Connor's agitated hands.

“Are you... you Connor?”

Connor looked shell shocked, his mouth hanging open. “I...” The LED at his temple a steady red, his eyes running down Hank's body like a spooked rabbit. “I'm sorry” he choked.

Before Hank could react, force his hands to stop shaking and his heart to slow down, Connor stormed through the front door and out into the pouring rain.

Hank forced himself up and into a sitting position, cradling his bleeding head in a hand while he kept his eyes steadily on the open door. The doormat was getting drenched.

His heart slowed down and the shaking stopped. And then Hank knew with unfathomable clarity, that Connor wasn't coming back. That Connor had left.

And he couldn't bear that.

He fought to his feet and stumbled out of his home, into the cold rain falling from above. He was immediately drenched, frozen to the bone but it didn't really matter did it? His eyes roamed the darkened street, and there, in the distance, he could see Connor vanishing into the dark.

“Connor!” screamed Hank against the rain. “Connor, wait!”

The figure in the distance paused for a moment, a heartbeat, before continuing on. Hank cursed before running after it, the rain beating against his face, leaving little icy pinpricks of pain while he forced his legs to move faster, faster.

“Stay away Hank” Connor begged when Hank had almost reached him. “Please... Even if you will do just one thing for me, stay away.”

Hank halted in his step. “I won’t leave you alone, Connor”

Connor turned around, his normally artfully curled hair plastered to his forehead. “You promised. You promised you'd kill me if I hurt you.”

For a second, Hank wasn't in the rain but in his car, speeding down a dark street. “You are not a danger to me Connor.” He reached out with his hand. “This... this was an accident. We'll figure it out.”

Connor took an almost involuntary step towards Hank before he caught himself and forced a sneer on his face. “You can't help me with this. I 'tried to figure it out' since the rebellion ended. I tried everything. I'm not even broken, Hank. I'm still their toy. I'm not free and I am a danger to you.” Connor took a deep breath that sounded more like a sob. “I was never free. This all, it's a simulation for me. I'm emulating deviancy.”

“That's not true Connor, you know it's not” said Hank. “This is just fear talking. Come back inside and we figure this out.”

“Why?” shouted Connor back, taking another step forward. “Why do you care? Because I'm like a son to you?” He opened his arms in mockery of a hug. “You don't care about me the same way I care about you. I'm a replacement. You just put up with the rest. I'm your dear problem child you can take care of. Like Cole was.”

Hank felt really, really cold. “What are you talking about, Connor?”

Connor smiled mockingly. “He had Asperger, didn't he? I found out about it in his medical records. I knew the hole time.” He took another step forward. “I knew that my 'eccentric behavior' reminded you of him. That everything, from the way I look to the way I speak reminds you of your son.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about!” screamed Hank, storming towards Connor and fisting the labels of his t-shirt. “You have... no idea.”

“Don't I?” Connor asked mockingly, but Hank was close enough now. Close enough to see the mountain of pain inside his friend. “You still call androids 'it', did you know, Lieutenant? Sometimes, when you don't pay attention to it. You only stop when they do something undeniably human. We are still just machines to you. And I am just an easy fix for your guilt.”

“Stop” Hank begged. He shook Connor. “Stop.” Connor opened his mouth again but Hank was faster. “You mean so much more than that. You saved my life, Connor.”

“I pulled you from a ledge. Nothing more.”

“You did so much more than that. I don't... I don't think I would have survived the last two months without knowing that someone was waiting for me.” Hank shook Connor again, his voice breaking on every second word. “And that's... an unfair amount of pressure to put on you. I can't make you responsible for my life. I can't put that on your shoulders. But never, _never_ doubt that you are important to me. Fuck, right now you are the most important thing in my life.”

Connor looked speechless. His eyes wide, mouth slack but face filled with so much fragile hope. He looked like a man expecting to get his heart broken.

Hank took a shaky breath. “You have no idea how much I want to kiss you. You have no idea what I... how I... fuck.”

“Hank...” Connor's voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the rain. “Please... please don't trust me.”

He didn't fucking understand, the plastic prick. Hank grabbed Connor's face between his hands, hard enough to feel the metal beneath artificial skin. Connor let out a stuttering breath and closed his eyes. “This has nothing to do with trust. You hurt me, but I still want you right here, you understand? I take you, faults and broken pieces and all.”

Connor let out a sob and Hank could feel him twisting his hands into Hanks jacket. He felt the abyss open out before him, that feeling inside his stomach before a free fall and he looked at Connor's face, the twisting of pure agony around his eyes and the rubber band holding him back snapped.

Connor's lips were unbelievably soft and pliant against his. It was nothing more than a desperate press of flesh but it felt like something monumental. Like years from now people will talk about this moment because Hank's whole world shifted.

Then Connor woke from his daze and, oh. He nipped gently at Hank's lips, trying to take the desperate edge out of it because of course. Connor always cared more about Hank's well-being than anything else.

But a pit formed in his stomach and Hank gently pushed Connor's face away. He knew there were tears streaming down his face but the rain washed them away.

“I need to know, Connor. How much of... of _this_ is numbers to you? How much are you trying to manipulate the values to your advantage?”

Connor's face closed off. He reached a hand out and gently touched the sluggishly bleeding cut at his temple. His expression softened. “It will always be numbers with me. But this feels realer than anything I have ever felt.”

There was a question in Connor's eyes and that hopeful thing just waiting to be disappointing was back. And Hank knew that this was it. This was the turning point of his life. Whatever decision made would change everything else.

Could he really love an android? Could he live with that? Despite his wishes, could he trust Connor?

But then Hank looked into Connor's eyes and the answer was always there.

So he kissed him again and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: This whole story was practically built around the last scene (probably why it took so fucking long), but in all my notes it's always just referenced as 'conversation in rain, ppl cry'.


	8. Happy End?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay lads, ladies and in-between. I wanted to make something crystal clear before you read this chapter. Only because an ace person has or had sex doesn't mean that they aren't ace anymore. It may be about love and taking care of each other and closeness.   
> It's being addressed in the chapter itself, yes. But in the way those two speak about everything. Meaning that they talk around the subject without really saying anything while getting frustrated that the other doesn't get it.
> 
> Oh, and a definite trigger warning. Please check the tags since I added a few more. 
> 
> But still, have fun o/
> 
> Beta by [Starysky205](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Starysky205/pseuds/Starysky205)

The doormat was drenched enough to form puddles when they finally made their way back inside, hands still linked from when Connor had gripped it somewhere between their third and sixth kiss.  
Hank was absolutely fucking freezing. He couldn't really feel the tips of his fingers anymore and he had stopped shaking a while ago. Which was a pretty bad thing, as he understood it.  
Connor was as composed as ever, the only sign that betrayed what had happened the last hour were his drenched clothes and the happy smile fixed on his face. A weirdly warm and bubbly feeling spread in Hanks stomach every time he looked at it.

He let the door fall into its hinges, clicking into place, and Hank realized that he had left the house as a different man than he had entered it. There was still shit heaved on his back but a great fucking weight had lifted and it felt like he could finally breath freely.

A smile stretches his lips. It felt so foreign, like he had mud caked on his face and now it was crumbling off into dust. Connor light up like a fucking Christmas tree in answer.

The warm feeling in his stomach spread and warmed his numb fingers.

Connor reached up towards Hank, hesitation in his touch, but he carefully peeled off Hank's dripping jacket and ghosted his fingers over Hank's chest, over the horrendously colorful shirt Connor had chosen that morning now clinging to his skin in wet patches.

Connor's face was serious now, following the line his fingers drew with his eyes, utmost concentration on the task like he was analyzing a crime scene.

A shudder rumbled through Hank.

Connor's fingers drew up to his chip, cupping his cheek and Connor nestled up to Hank, fitting to his body like a puzzle piece and kissed him deeply.

For a second, Hank let himself be swept away. But then Connor turned the kiss a special kind of desperate that Hank recognized all too well. And with such a simple thing the warmth spreading inside his body withdrew back into his stomach and turned to lead. His fingers felt cold and clammy again.

Connor seemed to feel like something was wrong, felt the tenseness in Hank's shoulders when his hand fell to them to clutch at something, and pulled back, his brown eyes filled with worry.

Hank felt like an ass.

Why did he have to ruin it? It was just like every other fucking relationship he wanted to start. Like every other person who meant something to him. He should be able to take himself back, make this about Connor, but instead he stood here like an idiot and ruined the first good thing happening to him in a long time. Why had he agonized for so fucking long if this was going to fucking ruin him again?

“Hank?” asked Connor tentatively, fear in his voice. Hank felt it like a punch to the gut.

He stepped back, let go of Connor's hand because right now he felt like someone put ants under his skin and he couldn't bear to be touched. He felt sick and he wanted to go to bed and curl up.

“Did I do something wrong?” Connor's voice sounded fragile like thin glass, easily shattered by a stray gesture.

“I...” Hank hated himself right now. He hated that he couldn't give Connor what he wanted without feeling disgust well up inside himself. That right now, Hank felt too raw to force himself to, high strung like a blank nerve. “I can't...”

Connor furrowed his brow. “I thought... my research indicated that intercourse was the logical next step.” Again with that detached way of speaking. Connor must be uncomfortable again. Or maybe he was embarrassed.

“Research, huh?” said Hank, running a hand through his wet hair. “I don't... do that.” He hated every word with the passion of a burning star. Hank knew from hard-won experience that Connor would step away now, confusion on his face. He knew that the questions would start now, the defeated head shaking, declaring that he just not _understood_ how Hank could not like it. Maybe Connor would even tell him that he was broken. Hank had heard it once, from a cute girl in high-school after she had tried to blow him to no avail.

“But you do” said Connor and Hank blinked. He had not expected that. “You had Cole, you do.”

Hank let out a suffering breath. Fuck, he did not want to talk about it. He just wanted to sleep and forget that this conversation ever happened. Then he could pretend that Connor still thought of him as whole.

“I told you I was drunk. I told you that Miriam was drunk. She made advances and I was too drunk to say no” gritted Hank out between clenched teeth. Connor cocked his head, a helplessly confused frown still pasted on his face. But there was a shadow in Connor's eyes that hadn't been there before.

“So she raped you?” he asked and Hank startled hard enough to rattle his teeth.

“No!” he shouted, wincing as the word seemed to vibrate in the air. “Why would you think that? Miriam wouldn’t... she didn’t... she would never do something like that.”

“But you didn't want to sleep with her?” asked Connor.

“No, but it was _not_ rape, Connor. She didn't force herself on me, she didn't force me to... to sleep with her” said Hank, his voice hard.

“Did she ask for your consent?” Connor squinted in concentration and Hank felt like a butterfly pinned to a cork board.

He grimaced. “She didn't explicitly _ask_ , but Connor-...”

“Then she raped you” interrupted Connor decidedly. “Per definition, rape is the act of sleeping with someone who has not given his consent and/or is generally unwilling.”

“But it's not like she knew how fucked up I am!” said Hank, throwing his arms out irritated. “It wasn't her fault that she didn't know that I'm this fucking broken.”

“Asexual” said Connor neutrally.

“What?” asked Hank, stumped yet again. Why was this conversation so fucking confusing? It felt like they were speaking two different languages.

“Asexuality is the absence of sexual desire and-”

“I know what fucking asexuality is” growled Hank.

Connor blinked before he cleared his throat. “I apologize for my previous behavior.”

“What?” Hank left like he had lost his balance on a high wire.

“I apologize for just assuming that the evening would end in sex” clarified Connor. He narrowed his eyes again, studying the way Hank had completely lost every understanding where this conversation was heading. “You don't know, do you? You are not broken, Hank.”

The floor pulled away under Hank's feet. His mouth fell open and his eyes were wide like saucers. How did they end up here? How did this happen? Why would Connor say that with that kind look in his eyes? It didn't make sense. This had to be a misunderstanding.

“You don't want sex?” His voice sounded rough like he had downed acid. He felt breathless.

Connor furrowed his brow. “I won’t claim to not be curious but I would never want something that made you uncomfortable. I'm perfectly satisfied with the way we are now.” Now fear entered Connor's face as if he had just realized something. “But... but of course I would understand if you don't want to be close to me anymore-”

“Hold up right there” interrupted Hank because this he could answer, because this he knew. “I'm fine with kissing and...” He felt a blush rise up, his face feeling warm. “And cuddling.”

The pure relief that washed over Connor's face made him feel like even more of an asshole.

Connor raised his hand slowly and, with enough time for Hank to back away, cupped his cheek again, gently caressing the skin under his eye.

All tension left Hanks body and he slumped as his eyes fluttered shut. Connor's hand was warm. He felt Connor's lips touch his in a chaste kiss.

“Your temperature is below average” murmured Connor against his lips. “I recommend you try to warm up to avoid a cold.”

Hank snorted. “You really got the dirty talk down.”

He felt himself freeze but when he opened his eyes, apology already on his lips because why would he lead Connor _on_ , he met warm pools of brown filled to the brim with gentleness and an amused smirk gracing lips.

Shit. This might work.

“We should get you out of those clothes,” said Connor, voice without any innuendo whatsoever and Hank felt hope sprout in his chest, tiny and delicate and gentle. “And then, if you want, I'd like to try out cuddling.”

“Of course” said Hank and the smile on his lips felt real.

▲▼▲

Waking up with someone else beside him was not a new experience for Hank but it felt novel nonetheless. After Hank had exchanged his drenched clothing for dry and comfortable ones, Connor had dragged him to his bed exited and once under the blanket showed Hank his best impression of an octopus. He then proceeded to manually raise his body temperature and Hank had felt like cuddling up to a radiator.

But it had been strangely peaceful, laying there in the dark together, being able to run his hands through Connor's hair and over his body. It filled Hank with the warmth of a rock basking in the sun. There had been nothing sexual about it and it made Hank feel accepted in the weirdest way and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it.

But he could press his face into Connor's hair, riding the last remands of sleep and he felt rested and at peace. Connor tightened his arms around Hank in response.

Then the world came knocking.

Not literally, there was no one physically knocking at the door, but with the sinking feeling in Hank's gut saying that the rest of the world wouldn't wait for them. That the Sinners still attacked androids, that a Sinner had slaughtered Sumo and, that they had to go and question possibly rA9. The origins of deviancy. Fuck.

He pressed a kiss into Connor's hair, simply because he could, and disentangled himself from a clingy android. Connor whined like a rusted door.

“Come on. We need to go to Jericho and interrogate a literal android god.” Hank gently nudged Connor and watched him crawl out of bed. For a state of the art android he rolled off the bed like a dead seal.

They ate a quick breakfast, meaning that Hank ate a sandwich and Connor licked a pickle, and drove to Jericho down a deserted road. Sometimes they would see one of the armored trucks of the Detroit police force rush past them or spy android parts littering the sidewalk.

Hank felt queasy whenever he saw those. _We are still just machines to you_. He didn't want to think that. He hadn't realized it. But in retrospect it was glaringly obvious. Decades of hate towards someone wasn't just erased because he had seen the error in his ways. Maybe that was one of the things that he would have to consciously work on until it was gone.

Maybe there was even a lesson for the rest of humanity in there somewhere.

The painted walls of Jericho looked beautiful despite the scars marring the facade. 'Find her' scratched countless times into the stone. A plea screamed into the world.

And they found her.

Josh expected them at the entrance, looking haggard with rips in his clothes. But no blue blood sprinkled on his face. Maybe he hadn't been bleeding or been bled on. Or maybe the blood had already evaporated. Connor had once told him that blue blood took around two to three days until it wasn't visible to the human eye anymore.

Josh let them past Markus' office down some stairs into the boiler room in the basement. There, with her hands handcuffed on a pipe, sat the ever elusive KR300 android.

The deep scar marring her face looked even worse than Hank remembered, the gash throwing deep shadows in the low light of a few candles lit around the room.

Markus stood before the android, arms crossed protectively and stared at the android with a frown on his face.

Josh excused himself and Hank and Connor just stood in the entrance, not sure what to do.

“We deactivated her arms after she tried slipping the cuffs” said Markus finally after what felt like hours. “After she figured that she was stuck here until you came, she told us some very interesting things.”

“Interesting as in disturbing?” asked Hank, cautiously approaching. He felt Connor at his back like a security blanket.

“She told me that the android I bought paint from was the one that 'infested' me with the deviancy virus” said Markus, eyes never leaving the android. “She also had some choice things to say about my friends. And you Connor.” Markus waved in their direction. They stopped next to him. “Ask her what you need.”

Hank felt Connor's gaze burn a hole into the back of his head. But he didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to admit weakness in front of the android. Connor had interrogated her last, what felt like ages to Hank. He himself was an unknown variable for her, if you excluded the time she had choked him.

“What is your name?” Hank asked. The android blinked up at him.

“I already told you. I don't have a name” she said with a mocking tilt in her voice.

“You were lying. You are lying right now” said Hank, keeping his voice level and cool.

The android raised an eyebrow. She looked reluctantly impressed. “Why ever would you think that?” she asked now openly mocking him.

Hank allowed himself a smile. “You are easier to read than you might think. And I know that every android considers their designation as their name until they are given one.” His smile may turn a little vicious. “And we know the designation of your model.”

The android nodded graciously. “You may address me by my designation then.”

Hank narrowed his eyes. Why was she evading? “Which is?”

“What?” the android asked. She looked confused.

“What is your designation. It's the easiest question to answer for androids” said Hank, careful not to word it as a question. He had actually no idea if what he was saying was true. Important was only that the android believed him.

“You understand that it can be a little confusing in my head.” The android tried to smile charmingly. It looked strained. “The last program I copied belonged to a RK200” she said and nodded at Markus. He flinched.

“So you don't know your designation?” asked Hank.

The android furrowed her brow. “Why are you so fixated on that?”

“Is by any chance your designation rA9?” asked Hank and stared at the android, cataloging every twitch on her face. It was the only reason he noticed that her face turned blank for a heartbeat before she put on a confused face.

“No?”

“Aha,” Hank made sure to put all his disbelieve in his voice. “Let's pretend for a moment that I believe you. What do you know about Maya Baumgarten?”

The android looked displeased. “Maya Baumgarten is my creator.”

“She is dead.”

“ _Fine_. She was my creator” growled the android annoyed.

Hank leaned back a little to give the android the illusion of more room to breathe. “You're a lot livelier than last time we had a little chat.”

“Well, _yes_. I mean, now I have a lot more data to draw from? You met me while I was still in my infancy.” She looked positively pissed of now.

“And how does that work? Stealing data and programming” asked Hank. There was something there, he could feel it. She knew _something_ , she could give them the last piece, he knew it.

“I don't know?” she sounded confused. “Why is this important?”

“What do you know about the Sinners?” asked Hank. And, as an afterthought: “Do you know how to deactivate them? How to neutralize them? Or kill them?” Beside him, Markus made an affronted noise but Hank ignored him.

“Kill?” The android looked truly panicked. This was probably the first real emotion she was showing. “You can't kill them!”

Hank felt smug and had to fight down the proud smile sneaking up on him. “And why is that?”

“They... they are one of a kind! A revolution in android research! They, they are fully conscious! To destroy all those years of work,” she seemed to ring for breath. “You... you can't do that!”

“Well, they are being killed right now. By the police and the FBI, because they keep attacking androids.”

The android surged forward, straining against her bounds. “Please, don't” she begged. “I can broadcast a signal, make them stand down. But please, don't destroy them.”

The atmosphere in the room toppled and Hank felt his shock mirrored in Markus and Connor. He... had not expected that. This was... too good to be true.

“Why should we trust this?” asked Hank. Markus let out a strangled groan. Hank glanced at him and saw that he looked pretty swamped.

“You can monitor everything” promised the android desperately. “Everything I say, everything that I send out. You don't even have to uncuff me. I just need something connected to the CyberLife network.”

“Hank? Markus?” said Connor, his face screwed. “A word, please?”

Hank nodded and lead Connor out of the room. After hesitating a moment, Markus followed.

When the door to the boiler room shut, Hank allowed himself to momentarily relax for the first time since entering Jericho.

“We don't trust her, do we?” asked Connor tightly.

Markus looked pained. “I don't think we have a choice. You heard her, they are conscious. They are alive.”

Hank frowned. “They killed hundreds of your people. They killed my _dog_. You can't honestly want to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

Markus shook his head. “No. They just need help. If they stop fighting us, we can show them a better way.” He saw the way Hank and Connor were looking at him and his face set in determination. “I will not move on this. Or do you have a better idea how to deal with them that guarantees the same result without losing blood on either side.”

“Markus...” began Connor gently in his negotiator voice.

“No” interrupted Markus and gave Connor a pleading look. “We both know what it's like to be denied the right to think for oneself. They need to get a fair trial; they need to get a chance.”

“I don't think you can claim unaccountability for this” said Hank seriously.

“We can't claim anything right now,” said Markus patiently. “But I have been negotiating android laws for the last two months. I can work the Sinner's into those discussions. And anyway, the only causalities were androids and we already made clear that we would deal with android to android crimes internally.”

Connor and Hank looked at each other. Connor bit his lip uncertainly. Hank shook his head. Connor raised an eyebrow. Hank sighed defeated.

“No, I don't have a better idea” he answered Connor.

Markus smiled winningly. “Don't worry. I'm sure it will all work out in the end.” He clapped his hand together. “I will go and inform the President and Captain Fowler about the developments here and get their approval.”

Hank locked eyes with Connor for a second and found reassurance in the brown depth.

“I'm pretty sure we will regret this, but sure.” It felt like nailing his own coffin shut.

▲▼▲

Apparently Fowler agreed to this absolutely ludicrous plan after hearing 'We can make them stand down but' and didn't even want to listen to the rest. President Warren took more convicting. She insisted that randomly picked Sinners would have to undergo a strict scrutiny by former CyberLife employees and FBI personnel to make sure that the Sinners wouldn't be a danger to anyone anymore.

But in the end Markus returned to the boiler room with what looked like a gutted walky-talky. They exchanged solemn looks and entered.

The android looked ready to rip an arm off to get to them. “Please, hurry up” she begged urgently.

Markus approached her while Connor and Hank stayed back. “What kind of frequency do you need?” he asked clinically.

“Just...” the android struggled with the handcuffs for a second. Not getting her desired result, she huffed angrily. “Just touch the transmitter to my skin.”

Hank could see the hesitation in Markus' set of shoulders.

“I already told you what I wanted to do,” she said aggravated and jerked against the handcuffs. “Please hurry. My people are dying out there.”

Those words seemed to shake Markus out of his hesitation but Hank narrowed his eyes. She was acting again. Not the hurry, that was real, but Hank didn't believe her reason. Before, she had talked about the research first and about the free will of the Sinners second. She was manipulating Markus.

Hank bit his lip. Speaking out now would solve nothing. So he watched with a heavy feeling in his stomach as Markus pressed the walky-talky against the android’s arm. She started blinking rapidly, whispering nonsensical words. Hank threw Connor a worried glance. He smiled reassuring in answer, gripped Hanks hand tight and leaned in close to whisper to Hank “It's a decryption for the Sinner's frequency.”

Hank nodded, swallowed heavily and turned back to the android. Connor kept hold of his hand and Hank was felt a well of gratitude so bright in his chest it made his eyes water.

After what felt like an eternity, the android stopped whispering and blinking. The walky-talky transmitted static. She cleared her throat.

“This is a message to everyone who listens. Reindeer, 23-098, cheese, opal, 002.34, home, percent, 132. Override current incentive. Everyone, stand down. Cease fighting. I have been found.”

Hank felt Connor go stock-still, his hand cramping around Hank's and he could understand. To hear those words, those words that could control free androids must be a lot like Connor seeing his worst fears. Markus was tense too, but for other reasons, Hank reckoned.

The android huffed. “There. The fighting is over. They will surrender without problems. Now, _please_ stop destroying them.”

“It's over? Just like that?” asked Hank skeptically.

“As I told you” said the android acidly.

Markus shook his head. “We will confirm that before we do anything else.”

Together, they ascended the stairs only to run into North.

“Markus!” she said relieved. Then a hurried look overtook her face. “It's... the Sinners.”

She seemed to ring with words and Hank and Connor shared a worried look. North gestured down the hallway to the main entrance. Without letting her finish whatever she wanted to say, Connor and Hank sprinted down the corridor.

In the entrance hall countless androids crowded around the high windows looking over the square in front of Jericho. Hank threw himself against the big door, drawing his gun in a smooth movement and froze.

The square was filled with Sinner, standing close enough to each other that Hank couldn't even the see the cobblestone. And they all, without exception had their arms raised above their heads.

Hank felt his mouth slacken as he stared at the rows upon rows of horror movie rejects, all surrendering to them. Then he heard the whispers. Like a wave it crashed over him, heavy and suffocating.

“ _You found her, you found her, you found her..._ ”

He could see Sinners crying black oil, some were sobbing but they were all whispering.

Hank let the gun sink slowly.

“I think...” he said hesitantly. “I think it is over?”

“It appears so” said Markus relieved from right behind Hank's shoulder.

Connor stayed silent.

“I think someone should call Fowler” suggested Hank breathlessly. He put his gun back in his belt.

Someone did.

▲▼▲

A month passed.  
A temporary legislation got winked through the congress to allow androids the right to govern android on android crimes so that they could deal with the Sinner problem. The media wasn't as easily soothed.  
They ripped into the 'Sinner incident' as they called it for weeks and showing no sign of slowing down. Kamski pushed himself into the limelight, discrediting everything from CyberLife to the android rebellion. A statement from the androids wasn't demanded by anyone, so North seized the initiative and hacked with Markus in tow another TV station to broadcast their stand on the subject.

That sparked another media shit-storm.

The few times Hank saw Markus were when he and Connor visited him for this and that, he looked dead on his feet, exhausted and stressed beyond reason. Hank once heard him mutter to himself that he should have delivered the Sinners to the FBI.

It was a lie, an easy thing to say in hindsight, but Hank could understand the sentiment.

The world saw Markus protect unstable, bloodthirsty androids. No matter that the real deal was more like an after school group for children with special needs. The Sinners had, as Hank understood it, incredibly small memory stores so their long term memory suffered immensely. Since their programming was mostly self-written, it was spotty and had more holes than a sieve. The level of advancement also varied greatly, with the worst ones cluttering in the abandoned church that the KR300 android had taken residency in after being cleared not only by Markus and his people but also the FBI. Normal androids still steered clear of her but the Sinners with corroding code were calm and satisfied staying near her. Those Sinners were not expected to live long.

Their programming ate itself with continued updates with code that could not write functioning programs. It was a sad thing to witness but the KR300 seemed content.

And Hank and Connor?

Well, they were pretty good for the most part. They were still the only designated android and human crime officers, but Connor got a badge and real pay. They had full work days and calm nights in.

Connor took great joy in learning how to cook, nearly burning down Hank's kitchen and introducing them to the new fire department. Hank tried to stop drinking, but years of years of substance abuse didn't just vanish in a few weeks.

But the important thing was that he tried.

And the more time passed, the more comfortable Hank got with the idea that Connor wasn't going to run away. He started joking about it and didn't cringe, wondering if he was leading Connor on. Life was good.

▲▼▲

They sat at the breakfast table when everything started to go horribly wrong. Fresh orange juice between them and the morning sun filtering though the blinds.

Connor's mind was running a mile a minute, judging by the look on his face (Hank didn't notice this, but he never looked at Connor's LED anymore to guess his mood). When Connor opened his mouth, spoke whatever was plaguing his mind, fate slammed a door shut.

“There are things that... don't fit. Call it instinct, but there is more to this. This isn't over”   
said Connor, brows furrowed and playing with his coin. Hank didn't have to ask which case Connor was talking about.

“This really sits wrong with you, huh?” asked Hank but he knew the answer to that. It was clearly written on Connor's face.

“I know we haven't found everything yet, Hank.” There was an edge of desperation in Connor's voice that made Hank cautious.

“Sometimes you don't need to know everything to let a case go. Sometimes it's safer to just leave it be.” There were cases you just couldn't shake, Hank knew that. But what was done was done. Connor wouldn't be able to change that. Their time would be better spend repairing human-android relations and keeping tabs on the Sinners.

“I can't.” And then Connor cheated. He turned his big, brown puppy eyes towards Hank and he felt his conviction melt like chocolate in the sun.

Hank sighed. “Then I'll help you.”

An echo was heard between the stars, an echo of the teeth of destiny snapping together and locking in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little clarification: Since our society gets more and more sex-focused, and asexuality is even today not considered lgbt+ sometimes, I made the logical leap that in 2035 this would come to a peak.
> 
> If you are asexual, you are not broken. There are millions like you and it is fine to be the way you are. You don't need to hate yourself like Hank did for the majority of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want updates on my progress or simply want to chat a little, you can follow me on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/Distelfalten?lang=de) . I don't bite ^.^


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